


Fallout Equestria: Clockwork Precision

by WyrmQuill



Category: Fallout: New Vegas, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Genre: Adventure, Alcohol, Crossover, Dark, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:40:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22088782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WyrmQuill/pseuds/WyrmQuill
Summary: A Fallout Equestria side story.Every war and story has it's heroes. Front page material that the masses rally behind and swoon over when met in person. However, there are many others that worked in the background during the great war that lead up to 'The Last Day'. That stayed out of the spotlights. That shied away from the fame and fortune that being well-known and popular brings. Why? Because that is what was needed of them. That was where they worked best. From the shadows.This story focuses on them, their efforts to save Equestria, and one particularly very unconventional pegasus soldier of Equestria.Betrayal put them on ice, but that did nothing to stop the fire of their resolve. Once released from his magical imprisonment he's free to continue the good fight. Arguably for an Equestria that needs it far more. Now he just needs to find some new toys, and make some new friends. Ones as crazy as he is to combat the savages of the wastes.





	1. Rude Awakening

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fallout Equestria](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/546934) by Kkat. 



War. War never changes. It is the one constant. Though the actors, methodology, and very form may be randomized, the beast known as ‘War’ remains. Sometimes sleeping, just waiting for the right time to rear its ugly head upon the world. Despite a thousand years of peace, the war that fell upon ponykind, Equestria, and the world as a whole, did so with a speed and ferocity that made the previous peace seem like a fool’s fantasy. Yet, when the beast of war stampeded across the land, laying low both creation and life, it seemed to ignore a few. For as the bombs fell, and the world began its death throes, some were spared the balefire kiss goodbye. Sheltered underground in the relative safety of reinforced bunkers known as Stables.

In the stables they would be able to carry on living. Safe from the hellscape of the surface. Not perishing in a war that was coming to its climactic closure. 

Whether they wanted to or not.

As jarring as waking up to that hell would be, imagine the increase of the shock… if you didn’t even realize you’d fallen asleep in the first place.

“Stable-Tec, what is the purpose of this room?” A stallion’s voice pierces the dark as the thick metal door slides out of the way. In the doorway an earth pony with a blue coat and a maintenance jumpsuit stands backlit by the hallways emergency lights.

“Room designated ‘reserved for long term storage’.” The robotic mare’s voice replies over a selection of speakers in the hallway and the room.

One of the speaker boxes sparks as it has given its final message.

The stallion’s head whips over in the direction of the sound, taking an instinctive step backwards into the hallway. After a few moments of no further action, he flips on the light function of his PipBuck and illuminates the surrounding area with its odd glow.

He peeks in the room in the direction of the last sparking and asks, “Stable-Tec, why was this room missing from the layout map?”

“Unknown,” reply the speakers, save for the one that doesn’t even spark this time.

“Greaaaat…” He turns his head around to look at his companion still in the hallway. He motions inside as he says, “Come with me. Keep an eye out for any surprises.”

As he is entering, a metallic heavy set of hooves follows him in. “Yeah. I hear ya, ya zebra loving muckraker… oh _please_ let there be something in here to squish. My combat inhibitor needs a _break_!”

The glowing eyes of the protectapony sweep back and forth, quickly, scanning the entire room as they continue looking, and hoping, for some sort of hostile entity to appear.

“Sarge,” the earth pony sighs, “Nonlethal weapons _only_ unless I say otherwise, regardless of reason, understood?”

The protectapony’s head zips to look at the stallion. “You _damned_ zebra lover! Ruining all my fun! I’d slag the _lot_ of you if it weren’t for this _gods_. _Damned_. _Combat_ _inhibitor_!”

The pony’s eyes narrow on the protectapony. “Confirm the order for nonlethal usage.”

The protectapony hangs its head dejectedly. “Con-firrrrrmed.”

The stallion perks up and starts trotting around, looking at the inventory codes on the sides of the many crates that seem to fill this room in rows. “Dammit. Looks like it’s all various spare parts, and not even things that’d break down often.” He sighs as his eyes skip over the collection of nearly uniform crates. “I was hoping for some medical supplies… maybe even some weapons and ammo.”

He stops midstride as he sees a break in the tedium of the storage unit. Against the back wall, surrounded by other boxes, he notices one crate of a different size.

He shoves one of the other boxes out of the way to get a better look, and finds a crate that is much bigger than any of the other boxes. Sweeping his hooves over it, he checks the box for serial information. He doesn’t recognize the storage code and inputs it into his PipBuck.

“Stable-Tec, I don’t know this code, what is it?”

“Ministry of Wartime Technology shipment designation,” the speakers around him reply.

“Ministry of Wartime Technology?” he mutters. “What the hell’s that doing here?”

“Unknown,” the robotic mare replies.

“I wasn’t asking- never mind. Stable-Tec, what does the shipment invoice say is in this container?” He tries to temper his hopes. The Ministry of Wartime Technology has some pretty impressive toys, so this could be anything. Although, that anything could include a radioactive water filled toilet. Okay. Not really likely, but it was something to keep in mind while trying to solve this puzzle.

“Nothing,” came the reply flatly.

“Nothing? Please clarify, Stable-Tec.” Handy looks at his PipBuck with a raised eyebrow.

“I apologize for the confusion, Head of Maintenance Handy Hooves. I replied as such, because there is no invoice on file associated with this shipment crate. Thus, ‘nothing’.”

Handy looks it over suspiciously for a moment. “A strange delivery in a storage area that doesn’t exist… uhg.” He looks at his PipBuck. “Any clue when this was brought into the stable?”

“Transmitting relevant data to the PipBuck of Head of Maintenance Handy Hooves.”

He scrolls through the information and grumbles at the long string of techno babble. “Wait.” He goes through the record again. “The day _before_ the bombs fell?” He looks up at the crate with a mix of concern and frustration. “That _can’t_ be a coincidence, right?”

“I apologize, Head of Maintenance Handy Hooves, I do not have any relevant data to answer your question.”

He pulls out a crowbar from his saddlebags and steps up to the crate. “Whatever this is, we need to know now. If it’s anything dangerous it needs to be dealt with.” He jams the point into the side lip then looks over to the protectapony standing nearby. “Sarge, help me open this, but _remember_ : No lethal weapons unless I tell you to.”

The protectapony clops over and grumbles, “Yeah, yeah, you’re the boss.”

They get the large side panel open rather easily, with a faint hiss of sucking air that Handy doesn’t even notice, fully intact without even breaking. It only takes a glance inside to see why.

The wooden crate seems to just be a facade. The interior is a reinforced metal solid box, with the wood attached to the sides for no other apparent reason aside from looks. The actual inside of this ‘metal box’ has a variety of equipment in it, attached to the sides, with a variety of braces, cables, and supports holding the apparent focus of this box in the center. He directs the light from his PipBuck towards the contents partially suspended in the center. The decidedly pony shape catches him off guard. Not so much for what it looks like, but for what it doesn’t.

“Help me get this out, Sarge,” he asks as he slides the panel they had removed to the side.

Between the two, they use the internal supports to slide and pull out the large construct that takes up the majority of the inside.

Handy moves slowly, cautiously, not sure what this is, and what could happen if this thing suddenly activated. He’s seen protectaponies before, his companion _is_ a protectapony. But this? This is beyond anything he’s even imagined. Its excessive articulation with overlapping segments forming its outer shell almost makes him think it’s some sort of suit of armor.

But, no, it would have to be a freakishly out of proportion pony to fit inside of this. Then, there were the countless numbers of gears. Hundreds. Thousands even. This entire… _thing_ , seemed to be composed of gears, with a few interlocking plates over areas making it look like it was wearing metallic lamellar armor. And all of it, every visible inch of the surface, had been polished beyond reason. Not quite to a mirror finish, but so close to it that it gives the high quality brass construct a practical golden glow. Enough to make one wonder if it was actually made entirely of solid gold at first glance.

Except the wings.

Yes, this construction was a mesmerizing replica of some pegasus. Except instead of soft graceful feathers, this practical piece of art had wings like stained glass. Multiple painfully placed segments of… crystal? Yes. Not simply glass. These shards are masterfully carved. The wings, while currently folded against the body, appear to have the articulation and hinge points for a full range of motion.

But, there’s no way something like this could fly. Right? The weight alone would make that- Handy gives it a push to the side with one forehoof, then both, and it barely moves. Yup. Despite the wings this has to be as earth bound as he is.

Between Handy and Sarge they manage to get this artistic beauty onto its side using the cabling and supports of the box to help keep it from simply crashing over like a domino. Handy kneels down to look at the now exposed underside, hoping for some sort of access panel. There are none in the middle, unfortunately, not that he can tell at least. So, he drifts his eyes as he carefully examines it and his view shifts to the left towards the tail end… His jaw drops, as he slightly recoils in surprise.

“Anatomically correct _stallion_ pegasus protectapony?” Handy blurts out in disbelief.

“That slag heap doesn’t match any schematic of protectapony from Robronco, ya zebra lover!” Sarge barks indignantly.

Handy raises an eyebrow and looks at Sarge before shaking his head and returns his attention to the task at hoof. While intentionally trying to direct his attentions away from the metallic sheath to his left. There’s no apparent access panels in the front of the chest, or sides, at least none that he can figure out. His eyes settle on the left foreleg of this metal doppelganger of pony life. There on its leg, just like his, is a very recognizable device.

A PipBuck.

A bit bigger than normal and practically archaic looking by PipBuck standards. No discernable model number or other identifying information can be seen. But it is undoubtedly a PipBuck. Of some kind. It seems to be heavily modified. But, to what end, he can only guess.

Feeling like he’s pushed his luck quite far enough, he pulls out a coil of multithreaded cabling and starts wrapping up the winged protectapony. Afterwards he hands the ends to Sarge. He points at Sarge with a hoof as he says, “ _Only_ nonlethal methods of combat, and _only_ if it becomes hostile and attacks first.”

“One can hope! Come on ya zebra loving slag-heap, give me a reason!”

Handy shakes his head and pulls out the data cable from his PipBuck. “Maybe this is the access port?” He connects the cable to a data port on the side of the odd PipBuck, and nearly shits himself at the sudden results. 

A spark arcs out from the connection cable as Handy tries to connect his cable to the port on the odd device that looks like a PipBuck. He jerks away with a start, both to avoid the tingling sensation jumping up his foreleg, and out of fright at what he’d seen. The PipBuck, and the construct at his hooves seem to come alive at the exact same moment.

“What the hell’s wrong with you!? This is beyond evil, what kind of sick fuck comes up with this-“ the voice of the mechanical pegasus comes out loud, clear, and only slightly robotic. The head pauses as its mouth hangs open and it stops mid-rant as it finally takes in its surroundings. Its eyes whip back and forth, yes, eyes, not simple scanners though they are made of a variety of metal.

He looks down at himself, with the random cables tying down his legs and holding his wings down to himself. Fear starts to show in his eyes. A weird thing to note in something that looks so bizarrely artificial. His eyes whip back and forth for a bit, as he gently tests the cables binding him. “W- what’s going on… You some kinda perverts or something? I’m not into this kinky shit! Get it off me!” 

Sarge lowers his laser and points right at the pegasus’s head. “Oh, that’s right… keep _fighting_ … Yeah. Attack me. You know you want to!”

The pegasus looks at the protectapony and snorts in a huff before going still and not moving.

Handy looks at Sarge and barks, “Stop trying to antagonize it! I see what you’re trying to do. No fighting, _at_ _all_ , unless I explicitly authorize it… even if it attacks you!”

Sarge whips his head up to look at Handy. “Oh… come on… t- that’s not _fair_!” There’s a pause before he asks quietly, “But if he attacks you, that’s different…” He chuckles and pokes the pegasus, “Hey, go ahead, attack him if you dare! You can take’em!”

Handy puts a hoof over his eyes as he grumbles, “If you keep this up I’m going to have to shut you down. Now,” he stomps his hoof into the ground for emphasis as he continues, “stop antagonizing it! _That’s_ an order!”

The pegasus looks up at his captors before snarling at Handy, “I’m not an _it_ !” He throws his head back towards Sarge. “ _That_ is an _it_.”

Handy looks at the pegasus for a few moments in thought before asking, “What _are_ you? I’ve not seen a protectapony like you before.”

The pegasus snorts. “I told you, I’m _not_ a machine! I’m not some automaton!” He rolls onto his stomach, lifts his hind quarters with his legs, and shakes his flank at Handy. “Do I look like I have a serial number to you?!”

Handy flinches and steps back, while trying to avoid staring at the anatomically correct rear end of this mechanical wonder before him. But, indeed, he doesn’t notice a serial number. No code. No insignia. The flank is entirely blank. And he doesn’t see it anywhere else either.

“Well,” Handy begins evenly, “what _are_ you then, if you’re not a protectapony?”

“I’m a pegasus… Duh. My name’s Gearing. I work for Stable-Tec.”

Whatever Handy was expecting. That wasn’t it.

“Riiiight… Stable-Tec,” Handy begins without much strength in his words. “And how am I supposed to believe that?”

Gearing looks around then weakly holds up his left forehoof, as best he can despite the restraints. “My credentials are on my PipBuck, I can show you if you’ll call off your bot and _let_ me.”

Handy smirks. “Yeah, right. I’m not that stupid… I have a better idea.” He taps on his PipBuck and asks with a smug voice, “Stable-Tec... Please connect to the PipBuck attached to this… ‘pegasus’ at my hooves.”

“Affirmative Head of Maintenance, Handy Hooves. One moment please...”

Handy looks down at Gearing and is about to say something when he’s cut off by some screeching and squawking from the surrounding speakers, then the Stable-Tec’s voice returns. “I apologize, Head of Maintenance Handy Hooves. I am unable to establish a connection with the PipBuck in question.”

Handy’s eyes narrow at Gearing as he asks, “Explain, Stable-Tec?”

“The PipBuck in question uses a security protocol I am unable to employ. It will not grant me access.”

Handy takes a step back and looks at one of the speakers nearby. “How is that even possible?! You _are_ Stable-Tec, how can you not communicate with yourself?!”

Gearing rolls his eyes and says, “Because I’m a head technician with Stable-Tec. Having the device open for just any stable to poke their head into it would be a bad idea. It’s called compartmentalization…” He looks up at Handy and raises an eyebrow. “How are you the ‘Head of Maintenance’, and don’t even know _that_!?”

Handy grumbles and his eyes jump around as he tries to think of what to do.

Gearing waves his left foreleg as he says, “I told you I can prove it, just let me use my forehooves!”

Handy sighs and says softly, “I’ll untie you… and you can show us… But don’t try to attack us or Sarge here will blast you.”

Sarge rapidly taps his hooves. “Oh I heard that _clear_ as day!”

Gearing tries to make himself as meek as possible as he says softly, “I’m not the one kidnapping people and tying them up for whatever kinky reason.”

Handy flinches and grumbles as he starts unbinding Gearing. “I didn’t kidnap you!”

“But you tied me up! Can’t deny that.”

“Had to make sure you weren’t a risk…”

“By knocking people unconscious and tying them up first instead of talking to them? Not even the Ministry of Morale’s _that_ bad.” Gearing taps on his PipBuck a few times then presents the screen to Handy as he starts casually trying to slip off the rest of the bindings.

Handy looks the screen over, from a distance, with his eyes constantly darting back towards Gearing to see what he’s doing, if anything.

Gearing’s standing unnaturally still.

Handy asks, “Well anyone can just write a document that says that… How can I be sure?”

Gearing taps a few commands into the PipBuck then sits there and stares at Handy a few moments. “Well, Stable-Tec?” Gearing asks.

The voice comes across the speakers over head. “Credentials received. Verified. Individual identified as Stable-Tec and Ministry of Wartime Technology Liaison…. Special Technician Gearing.”

Handy’s eyes jump around as he’s trying to follow everything. “What the hell’s a ‘Special Technician’?”

Gearing continues to stare at Handy for a few moments before saying evenly, “Technician of the highest grade. They call me in when there’s a bug they can’t find or things get screwed up. I can work on any system in the stable, and get sent around wherever they need me.”

“What’s with the ‘Ministry of Wartime Technology’ bit?” Handy asks cautiously

Gearing tilts his head and says evenly, “Stable-Tec, and Ministry of Wartime Technology. High end technology. Goes hoof and hoof with each other.”

“Mmm hmm,” Handy mumbles without actually believing it. “And just what the hell are you doing down here in a crate if that’s the case? If you’re some kinda bigshot?”

Gearing shrugs, which is a really weird thing for Handy to see from something that even now strikes Handy as a protectapony. The fluid motion of it is decidedly bizarre by comparison. “I couldn’t tell you. Last thing I remember is I was having an argument with one of the higher ups in Stable-Tec. Next thing I know I was looking up at you two perverts and gift wrapped like some kind of bondage convention.”

He slowly turns around looking at the crate behind him where he’d come from, and tries to put everything together. He starts poking around inside the crate as Sarge rocks back and forth anxiously, hoping Gearing would make some kind of aggressive move.

Gearing flops back down on his rear looking at the crate. “That son of a _bitch_ !” He turns back to look at Handy. “That bastard must have knocked me out with some kind of stasis weapon.” He looks at the crate and tries to find any sign of anything that could have been used to keep him in the field. He sifts around in the bottom of the crate, where his hooves had been, and kicks around a couple oddly shaped stones. They crumble to dust at his touch and he snarls, “I’d heard about this kind of technology, but he’d managed to _weaponize_ it?!” He scoops up a bit of the dust and the largest pieces as he tries to turn and show Handy. “Stasis Talisman. It’s burnt out. I think… Looks like it _just_ burnt out, I don’t know why though. These things weren’t meant to last very long, at most a few hours to get a soldier from the field to a clinic. Even that was only experimental.” He grabs the box lid and starts examining the insides. “I bet they voided the air in here, I’m not really seeing any corrosion, the sudden gush from you opening it must have screwed something up.”

Handy tilts side to side, trying to see into the box, and figure out what Gearing is doing. “Who are you talking about? What did they do? Why would they do that to their own employees? Weren’t you all on the same team?”

Gearing shakes his head softly. “No… I mean, we were _supposed_ _to_ be… but… not everyone apparently.” He turns and looks at Handy with a scowl. “You ever come across anything that you might not have been intended to see while doing your normal work? I’m sure you have, right?”

Handy bobs his head side to side a bit. “Sorta… Yeah… But not really. I get what you mean, why?”

Gearing points a hoof back at the container. “Because that’s what happened to me. I came across something that I apparently wasn’t supposed to see. I went to the person I _thought_ would be the one to report it to, and… well. Turns out I was more expendable then I thought I was.” He looks over his shoulder at the box and says softly, “I knew too much, so they got rid of me…”

Handy looks at the box and at Gearing then raises an eyebrow. “Why didn’t they kill you then? Wouldn’t that have been easier?”

Gearing bristles and shakes his head. “No idea. Gods know they had more than enough opportunity with me in stasis and completely helpless. Although it might have been harder to get away with it… might have something to do with my PipBuck alerting that I’d died… hard to cover up… or…” He looks back at the crate and says softly, “Maybe they thought they _had_ killed me… and just crated me up and threw me in storage until the end of time when it wouldn’t matter anymore…”

Handy sits down and says with a sad sigh, “Well, then I’d say they succeeded at that then.”

Gearing turns around and his eyes practically glow. “Ooooh no they haven’t. I’m still alive, and I’m not going to stand for this! The experiments they had planned… uhg… sadistic doesn’t even begin to cover it!” He stands up and starts looking around. “Just wait until I get back to HQ, I know who to talk to now. Forget the mid or upper lackeys. All _hell’s_ going to break loose once I report in!” His head tilts as he follows the beams over head. “What stable is this anyway?”

Handy tilts his head. “How could you possibly tell this is a stable just from the ceiling beams?”

Gearing looks at Handy and smirks. “I helped build them, of course.” He looks around at the storage room. “This one seems packed though. Lots of extra supplies. Probably preloading… so... which one is it?”

“68,” Handy says softly.

Gearing spins around on Handy so fast that Sarge hops over and points his laser at Gearing’s head. But, Gearing pays no attention as his eyes are open to their widest in surprise and fright. “68?! Th- that’s impossible! 68 hasn’t even been built yet!”

Handy regards Gearing for a few moments before he says softly, “It’s 68, alright. That’s what all the records say and the markings on the outer door.”

Gearing flops down on his rear, causing a loud clang to echo out as his eyes jump around. “N-no. That can’t be. No way. The records I’d found, it’d only been in the design stages. They hadn’t even decided entirely on the location yet!” He looks at Handy and asks in a choked voice, “Tell me you’re kidding…”

Handy slowly shakes his head in response.

Gearing slowly looks around. Then at the robot menacing him nearby and asks while staring at the robot, “Were- were the stables activated?”

Handy sighs. “Yeah… a long… long time ago.”

Gearing looks back and forth between Handy and Sarge. “So, the stable’s still functioning? The place managed to work, despite the sadistic research project that was planned for it?”

Handy stares at Gearing for a few moments. After remaining in silence trying to figure out what all is going on, and what to do next, he says flatly, “No. Everypony died.” He rolls his head and bobs it a round a bit. “Sort of. It’s complicated. The one mare that was here, she’s uploaded her mind to the computer and her foal was in stasis.”

Gearing perks up and looks at Handy for a few moments. Then his shoulders sag. “The _one_ mare… right? The only one?”

Handy nods slowly. “Yeaaaaah.” From the tone in his voice, Gearing can tell that they’ve both communicated the fact that they both know exactly the same information that is on Gearing’s mind.

Gearing stands up and looks at Handy with a stoic determination that Handy was not prepared to see. Sarge regards Gearing and his laser weapon wavers. There’s still no sign of hostilities from him, despite this quick change in behavior, and he can’t bring himself to pull the trigger. Despite how much he might want to.

“I need to see her,” Gearing says flatly.

Handy waves his forehooves in front of himself as he shakes his head. “You have to _what_ now?”

Gearing points towards the opposite side of the room. “I need to see her. I have to apologize to her.”

Handy tilts his head and leans towards Gearing. “For what?”

Gearing waves a hoof around. “For… all of this… I failed to prevent it. I at least need to apologize to her.”

Handy waves a hoof and sighs. “That, doesn’t really make any sense, but, sure.” He looks around the room a bit before asking dead panned, “You’re not going to just shoot us in the back, are you?”

Gearing tilts his head as he regards Handy. Then he stands up straight and slaps a hoof across his chest in a salute. “I’ve sworn to protect Equestria and its citizens. I would never betray the faith entrusted in me nor dishonor those who gave me it.” He stomps his hoof down and says flatly, “I helped build these to _protect_ lives… not take them.” He turns his head and snorts in disgust. “That’s why I was so appalled by what I found out about some of them.”

Handy nods and starts leading the way out of the storage room. “Uh huh… well, we’re going to be keeping an eye on you anyway… I don’t know you, and I don’t trust you… betray us and you’ll have the whole stable coming down on you.” He looks over his shoulder at the protectapony bringing up the rear. “And Sarge will simply have too much fun if that ever happens.”

Gearing tilts his head as he follows, and refuses to even look at Sarge. “Gee, real great at making friends, aren’t ya?”

Handy spins around and sticks a hoof in Gearing’s face. “Let me tell you something. Most ponies would have let Sarge just slag you back there. You have no idea what we’ve been through. Trust is _earned_ , not just given… So consider yourself lucky we’ve let you get _this_ far!”

Gearing leans in towards Handy, causing him to withdraw his hoof. “And let me tell _you_ something. _My_ loyalty to Equestria is unshakeable. _Loyalty_ means _everything_ to me. If you treat me right, and stop acting like a _jackass_ , you’ll find out I’m one of the most useful assets you’ve ever even dreamed of… however.” He scowls at Handy. “I don’t respond well to unnecessary _threats_ either…”

Handy takes a step back and his eyes keep darting towards Sarge who just keeps staring at Gearing. “So?”

Gearing continues on down the hall as he looks at Handy. “So… stop treating me like I’ve done something… when I was the victim of betrayal… Trust me, I’m not someone you want to make an enemy from either.”

Handy quickly takes a few steps back. The statement wasn’t exactly that powerful. Nor really threatening. However, there was something in Gearing’s eyes. Something dark. A promise of some sort. A promise he very likely didn’t want to collect on.

He was already regretting letting this thing out of the box.

Handy leads the way down the maze of halls to the central mainframe. He and Sarge keep pace with Gearing in the center, but Gearing neither seems to mind nor care. Gearing spends the entire trip checking out the corridor and the various doors that they pass along the way. Handy gets worried that Gearing is plotting something, that he’s mapping out the area for some future evil. But, the thought passes as he realizes that any idiot with a PipBuck would have the entire place mapped for him just by walking through it, whether they wanted to or not. While paying more attention to what Gearing is doing than his own walking down the hall, he notices that Gearing’s attention seems to be focused on whichever systems they pass. Specifically his attention lingers on ones that are in obvious need of repair.

“Don’t worry,” Handy comments, “the stable’s in rough shape, I know, but she’s not going to collapse any time soon. She’s still safe enough for now.”

Gearing mutters, “This place needs some serious maintenance.” He looks at Handy. “Isn’t that supposed to be your job?”

Handy groans, “Yeah…” He shakes his head and starts looking forward. “I’ve been doing what I can, but it’s hard to keep up with it when there’s so many dangerous problems to deal with… especially the lower levels.”

Gearing tilts his head as he asks, “What’s wrong? Radiation leak or something?”

Handy shakes his head. “No, all sorts of critters down there. We’ve only been here a short time, and have only managed to clear out the upper levels.”

Gearing pauses then asks as he goes back to looking at the bulkheads, “How’s that possible? The stable’s supposed to be closed.”

Handy shrugs. “Stable failed. Place was a tomb when we found it.”

Gearing hangs his head and begins grumbling to himself, but doesn’t say anything more until they come to a thick door. He looks at the door carefully, and the old fading paint labeling this ‘Restricted Access: Authorized Ponies Only’ as Handy starts walking over to a terminal at the door. Gearing’s attention jerks to the corner above the door where a security camera turns to face Handy.

“What the hell do you want _now_ , Handy?” an annoyed mare’s voice asks from the speaker box near the terminal.

Handy stops midstride, and looks around quickly, then directs his attention to the camera staring at him. “This thing- It-… he wants to meet you, Nettlekiss.” Handy stumbles over his words before pointing a hoof at Gearing.

The camera spins towards Gearing, zooms in and clicks repeatedly, and a groan comes over the speaker before the camera turns back towards Handy. “ _Another_ stallion? Who gave you permission to bring another _stallion_ into _my_ stable?!” The camera whips over towards Gearing and the voice asks, “How did you even get in here? Nothing gets in without my permission, least of all you rapist bastards. _Speak_ _stallion_!”

Gearing tilts his head a few moments as he regards the camera.

Tick.

Tick.

CLICK.

“It’s likely I’ve been here longer than you have. That’s most likely why you didn’t know about my arrival.”

“Horseapples,” the voice responds. “I’ve been here since the bombs fell.”

“According to the information I could find, he was locked away the day before that...” Handy looks over at Gearing and says softly, “Apparently.”

The camera looks back and forth, zooming in to both of their faces, getting a read on their mannerisms before asking, “Locked away?”

Gearing nods then looks right at the camera. “I was kidnapped. I came across something that I wasn’t supposed to see. And they locked me into a stasis field to keep me from blowing the whistle on it.”

The camera zooms in to Gearing. It unnecessarily moves around as it looks him over. It’s obvious that the person controlling the camera is doing it for their benefit, as the camera can easily take in the full view at once without the need to move. “And just what was so secret?”

Gearing sits down and looks straight into the camera. “The truth about this stable. What they were really planning. About…” He looks over at Handy and says unsteadily, “The experiments… I found out.”

“You _knew_ ?! Since _when_?!” The voice screeched with obviously uncontrolled emotions boiling to the surface.

Gearing looks up at the camera. “While this stable was still on the drawing board.” He shakes his head as he continues, “They hadn’t even selected a location yet.”

“And you _let_ them!? How could you let those bastards _do_ that?! Do you have _any_ idea what I’d been through? What I barely survived?!”

Gearing jumps to his feet in a wide stance. “I _didn’t_ ! As soon as I found out about it, I was livid! I took it _straight_ to my highest contact!” His posture slowly deflates as he says, “But, apparently they were on the take… They made sure neither me nor the truth would see the light of day.” He closes his eyes and seems to become really small as he draws himself in. “Until it was far… far too late.”

There’s a long moment of silence as no one speaks. Even the speaker box remains completely silent, without even a hum of the microphone being disengaged.

Gearing walks up to the corner, puts his hoofs on the adjacent walls and gets as close to the camera as he can. “I’m so. So sorry. I tried to do the right thing. I really did… But... I failed… I failed you. I’ve failed so many… I’m so sorry.” His forehooves slide down the walls as he sinks down to a near seated position on the metal floor. Handy regards him from his position near the far wall, away from Gearing. From the hitch in Gearing’s voice, it seemed almost that this construct before him was on the verge of tears. An act that would be hard-pressed for the best among theater folk.

“You-“ The mare’s voice finally breaks her silence, “Weren’t here… there was nothing you could have done. It’s…” Over the speaker the hesitation comes across strongly. As something that she herself is having a hard time putting into words. Her hatred of stallions being so pure from her treatment at their hooves. But, still. As much as she’d like to. She can’t lay fault on his shoulders. He did all he could. Even she can see that. And he paid dearly for his attempt. “It’s not your fault.”

Gearing bobs his head around slowly, while looking at the floor plating. “I should have known better. My fault or not, I still failed. And I have to live with that.” He hops up and looks at the camera with renewed vigor. “But, I’m _extremely_ useful! The stable here, needs a lot of work. I can get it back up to snuff for you. That’s no problem!” He gets close to the camera again by pressing his forehooves into the adjacent walls again. “But, is there anything else you need? _Anything_ else I can help you with? Anything I can do to…” He hangs his head a moment, but tilts it so he can look at the camera with one eye as he finishes, “try and make up for my failure?”

“My foal… Guard my foal. My foal is all I care about now. Do that and… blech… you can stay.”

Gearing’s ears perk up then he grimaces as several thoughts jump through his mind. He shakes his head, throwing the thoughts away before he asks, “Foal? You have a foal?” He shakes his head a bit more then asks, “Sure, What does it need? Do you need any food? Is the water system working?”

“We’re taking care of the foal. It’s in the medical bay,” Handy offers from his seat by the wall. “That was the deal for us being brought in. We’re only here because she needs someone to look after the foal. Robots can only do so much.”

Gearing nods then looks back at the camera. “Then, what about you… Nettlekiss was it?”

The camera zooms in a few times, Gearing can see the aperture changing sizes rapidly. “I don’t have a body anymore, stallion.”

Gearing tilts his head as he tries to figure out what she’s saying, and it doesn’t seem to be clicking for him.

“She uploaded her mind to the central computer years ago… It was a way for her to escape, and try to save her foal. There was no other way.”

Gearing stares at him a few moments then his eyes open to their fullest in a moment of clarity. “The stable wouldn’t have made it…” He looks at the camera and continues on, “You are the _original_ mare… personality uploaded before the stable collapsed… And the foal… put into stasis?”

“As soon as I gave birth,” The voice confirms softly.

Gearing nods and hangs his head as he says, “And the stable collapsed, with everyone else dying.” He looks back at the camera. “At least those not being suspended through arcano-technology.”

“You’ve found a real smart cookie here, Handy.”

Handy shrugs. “I was just looking for some supplies to try and get this place going. Didn’t even know something like _this_ existed.”

Gearing snorts and looks at Handy. “For the last time. I’m _not_ an _it_.” He shoots a hoof at the camera. “At least she has the decency of calling me a ‘Stallion’, even if she means it as a slur.”

Handy looks him over, his eyes going over to Sarge who’s been rocking back and forth with his targeting system aimed at Gearing, and shakes his head a moment before he throws both forehooves at Gearing. “Just what _are_ you?”

Gearing closes his eyes and grumbles as he slaps a metallic hoof across his metallic face in the loudest facehoof Handy’s ever seen. He drags the hoof down his muzzle until it falls off the end then directs his attention to Handy again and asks, “From what you’d said, there’s more here than just you. You’ve said ‘us’ and I really doubt she’d have a problem with a machine she can control being inside…” He points a hoof over at Sarge. “So there’s others, right?”

Handy looks him over for a few moments and asks, “What do you think, Nettlekiss?”

The camera turns its attention towards Handy. “Put him to work. The stable’s informed me he’s a certified technician. As long as he pulls his weight, and doesn’t pull any shit, he can stay.”

Gearing raises a hoof. “If you’re concerned about resources. The only one I need is the space I take up.” He curls a wing around and starts counting off with crystal feathers, “I don’t need food, nor water, and I can even work in more dangerous areas with relative safety. And I’m probably the fastest technician you’ll ever meet.”

Handy snorts as he feels a personal attack on his pride. “Oh yeah? Well I’m a pretty good repairpony myself. What makes you so special?” He shoves a hoof at Gearing.

Gearing tilts his head, and looks up and to the side as he puts on the biggest smile Handy’s seen on him yet. “Easy, I don’t sleep. And I don’t fatigue. So I don’t slow down over time.”

Handy’s hoof droops to the floor. _How is that even possible? That’s not even fair._ “H-how?”

Gearing stands up and starts walking back the direction they came from. “How about you introduce me to everyone else. I’ll explain it to everyone.” He looks back at the camera. “Nettlekiss, I know you said you’re fine… but… if you need anything… you have my transponder signal. Just give me a ping and I’ll be there.”

“Alright, stallion… Now just get out of my sight… _all_ of you!”

Handy, taking the not-a-hint hops up and hurries down the hallway away from the access door. He looks at Gearing as he passes and a scowl crosses his face that Gearing can’t help but catch in his peripheral vision.

Gearing follows behind, keeping his eyes on his surroundings as they continue down the path. “Handy… if you’re not comfortable with taking me to everyone else. I can just start working down here. You can talk with everyone else and decide on how you want to introduce me.” Handy’s head turns to look back at Gearing suspiciously, so Gearing replies, “Trust is earned, not given, right?”

Handy shakes his head. “No. It’d be best to go ahead and meet everyone else now…”

Gearing follows, his eyes skimming over the surface as they continue down the hallways. His eyes settle on the PipBuck on Handy’s foreleg as Handy sends out some message to somepony. Gearing’s eyes trail elsewhere as he keeps an eye out on his surroundings. A few moments later, after Handy’s casual message had already been sent off, Gearing finally comments, “You know. If you all decide you don’t want me here…”

Handy’s head turns sideways as he glares at Gearing as he wonders if the protectapony has managed to intercept signals or has some kind of devious plan up his sleeve.

After getting eye contact with Handy, Gearing continues, “I’d really prefer it if you just say so… and just send me on my way.”

Handy stops and stares at him a moment, his eyes getting wider by the moment. “What?”

Gearing pauses and waves a hoof in the general direction where he believes the front door of the stable is. “You know. _Leave_ … The front door works, right?”

Handy turns around completely and stares at Gearing. “You’d just... _leave_? Why? You have no idea what the world is like out there.”

Gearing continues walking, and passes him, as he comments, “Oh I’m sure I have a pretty clear idea. The literature on the subject was mandatory reading.” He pauses long enough, while they are side by side, to shoot a sidelong glance at Handy. “It’s what we were fighting to _prevent_ in the first place… and they wanted us to be fully mindful of the consequences of…” He continues walking, but doesn’t complete his sentence until well after breaking eye contact, “our failure…”

Handy regards him for a few moments, not moving, as he tries to figure out the newest inhabitant’s mindset. He exchanges glances with Sarge before turning to trot next to Gearing. “There’s a lot of bad ponies out there… We have a good group here… I’m going to do what I can to keep them safe.”

Gearing nods. “I understand that. And I’ll help where I can. So, let’s get to it.”

They walk for a while, and Handy can’t help but pay attention to Gearing as they walk. There’s something off about him. He can’t quite place it.

Besides this being some kind of stained-glass winged golden piece of arcano-technology that doesn’t realize it’s a piece of technology, that is.

“Hurry it up slag heap, I’m getting bored with these escort missions…” Sarge grumbles from the back.

That’s it. He’s slow. Gearing is not moving as fast as Handy. In fact, Sarge even seems to be moving slightly faster than Gearing. Both Handy and Sarge are having to check their speed to stay in formation with Gearing.

Handy asks, “So… You okay? You need any repairs or anything?”

Gearing snorts and shoots Handy a daggering stare. “I keep telling you I’m _not_ a protectapony!” He continues on, picking up the pace, but seems to be in some sort of slow motioned canter. “I can’t _be_ repaired. If I get hurt, I need some form of medical attention… worst of all, it has to be at least partially magically infused or it will be a complete waste of time.”

Handy shakes his head. “Wait. I see your gears, and plates. You telling me they can’t even be swapped out or welded if they get damaged?”

Gearing grumbles some more then shoots a look at him as he snips, “Just where is this meeting supposed to take place so I can get these bullshit questions out of the way…”

Handy scowls at Gearing. “Hey, no reason to get snotty with me! Most would be grateful for the concern!”

Gearing spins on him, and points a hoof at him as he growls, “ _Grateful_ !? Why should I be grateful? You’ve been questioning my very right to exist this entire time!” He waves a hoof around. “My whole life I’ve been having to _justify_ my own existence.” He turns and starts stomping, heavily, down the hall. “And I’m really sick of it. Not even the world ending could end bigotry it seems…”

Handy turns to look at Sarge. They exchange glances and Handy’s head continually turns to the side. Finally Sarge answers the question that Handy’s apparently wondering, “Didn’t go red… The smart bastard.”

* * *

Footnote: PipBuck connection timed out. Please wait, attempting to reestablish . . .


	2. Reluctant Allies

Handy turns and trots after Gearing, then leads the way to the medical bay. They step in through the first set of doors, and it seals behind them. Gearing looks around as the decontamination chamber’s sequence runs. This was a new addition that he hadn’t anticipated. This level of precaution is normally set aside for labs dealing with some biological or chemical hazard. It would be great for preventing pandemics, but for the entrance for a normal medical bay? That seems overkill. The scanning sequence ends, and kicks on a cyclone of air that cycles all of the air in the enclosed room up into the ceiling. Gearing stares up into the grates above and notices the glow of lights that gives him the distinct impression of light based sterilization.

The entire sequence finishes, and a moment later the inner door opens, revealing the medical bay interior. Handy walks in first, scanning the room with his eyes before going to stand near a sky blue pegasus mare with a blue-streaked red mane cascading around her shoulders. They exchange whispers as Gearing steps into the medical bay, just inside the door, far enough not to get smashed when the doors seal themselves again, and begins looking around. Gearing only trails his gaze around in a casual pace of taking the room in, and not gawking at the unreasonably attractive mare with the tornado cutie mark Handy’s conversing with.

On one of the medical beds to the right nearest the back right corner, a suncat lays on her back, with a bundle clutched to her cream colored underbelly. The feline glances around and says nothing, but regularly directs her attentions from the bundle in her paws, to the group around her. A white multi-armed nurse bot with pink and yellow trim floats near her, looking like a floating metallic jellyfish, taking in a variety of data and, after determining that the new arrivals have no impact on the task at hoof, continues its vigil over the suncat and the bundle being held so tenderly to her.

Gearing’s seen suncats before, in his out of country travels, but he can’t recall personally seeing them actually _in_ Equestria before. So one being in a stable is an extreme oddity. The slight movement of the cloth draws all of Gearing’s attention for a few moments. The very foalish micro movements give him a pretty clear picture of the precious cargo being cradled in the fabric before he draws his attention across the rest of the medical ward.

The room, as a whole, is much larger than he’d expected for a simple stable. A lot of space and more than enough beds for typical usage. His eyes settle in the far back right corner, where a large egg like pod rests. He’s seen these before, and sincerely hopes he doesn’t have to use one. Medical procedures are bad enough when being administered by talented unicorns. But, the medical pods are another monster entirely. Cramped, enclosed, and all kinds of things going on to you while you can’t move. He shivers at the thought and shakes it off with his full body.

The other occupant of the room is a grey stallion that seems present, in the sense of being here, but has apparently entirely passed out over the bed he’s crawled over in a very rude manner. It’s a strange sensation, looking at someone’s who’s asleep, and the first thing that pops into one’s head is ‘Ruuuuude’. Just by the way he’s laying, fuck all cares style, gives Gearing a negative impression of him as someone that’s probably extremely annoying and, given how no one else is reacting to this sight, this must be the most pleasant he ever is: unconscious.

Gearing stretches, letting his wings expand out to their absolute fullest. “It’s nice to have a bit of _room_ for a change,” he partially groans with the pleasurable effort.

Except for the slightly subdued lighting directly above the suncat, the rest of the room is brightly lit, showing off every shiny detail of Gearing’s polished bronze form with its silver and golden aspects. Which only gets magnified as Gearing stretches.

The light reflects and refracts off of Gearing’s wings, sending a cascade of sparkling color in a variety of directions, like some living disco ball. The light filtered through his wings hits the ground and wall in a tinted hue of greens and blues that are a stark contrast to the sterile grays and whites of the stable’s interior.

Handy tilts his head at the spectacle, then covers his face with his hoof as Gearing gives a few heavy flaps, sending wind out in gusts in front of himself before folding them back and settling down. Again, the thought of those wings being able to lift that much mass crosses his mind, but that wind was something else. _Nah. No way._ Handy decides.

Gearing looks at Handy then looks around at the others, including Sarge. “So, Handy, is this everyone… or?”

Handy narrows his eyes and says flatly, “Enough of us… yes.”

Gearing rolls his eyes. “Fine. You can explain the rest to anyone else. You’re the leader after all.”

At this statement the pegasus mare gives a disapproving look at Handy, who only shrugs. There’s a long silence as no one seems to know what to say first. After a bit Handy finally asks, “Well?”

Gearing looks at him. “Well, what? You brought _me_ \- Oh, yeah, I suppose I should introduce myself.” He flops down on his rear heavily and waves his right forehoof. “Hi. My name’s Gearing. I’m a Technician for Stable-Tec.”

“I’m Nahlah! Hi!” The suncat in the bed excitedly waves a paw from her bed.

Gearing nods his head towards her, and brings his attention back towards the pegasus mare. She stares at him with a level of suspicion in her dark green eyes that even exceeds Handy’s. “I’m Swift. And if you harm my children, I’ll destroy you.”

Gearing’s ears pop up. “Children? Is that one of your little ones over there?” He points a hoof at the suncat’s bundle.

Swift shakes her head. “That’s Nettlekiss’s foal.”

Gearing turns back to her. “Oh, okay, where’s-“

“Don’t worry about where _my_ children are,” Swift cuts him off.

Gearing waves both hooves in front of himself. “You’re protective, I get it. Your foals, your rules.” He puts his hooves back down and stares at her as he asks, “Can you at _least_ assure me that they aren’t going to be getting into areas where they aren’t supposed to be? That I won’t have to keep a look out for them while working?”

She stamps a hoof towards him, pounding a power hoof into the floor plating, as she snarls, “This is _our_ stable, not _yours_. They can go where they wish!”

He looks at her for a few moments, and asks evenly, with a slight hint of accusation, “Really? I was told that this stable’s barely holding together. That it’s falling apart. And what’s worse, the lower levels are _particularly_ dangerous.” He tilts his head and asks as his one eye on her narrows, “You _really_ let your children play in radiation contaminated nests of beasts?”

She pulls back slightly, not expecting that response and hating the thought of it. “Well. No. Of course not. Don’t be stupid.”

Gearing nods. “Well. As long as they are safe and not in any danger, they aren’t any concern of mine…” He turns to look at Handy as he expects some sort of hint on where he’d like the conversation to go from here.s

Swift tilts her head, staring at Gearing. It doesn’t pass her by that his questions were, in their entirety, confirming her foals’ health and safety. This goes a long way to get on her good side, but still far from where he’d need to be. They’ve been through too much to put too much trust into anyone so quickly.

“Hey, Handy, where’d you get the new protectapony?” the grey stallion asks from the bed as he’s flopped over in a near spread eagle style position. He scratches his underbelly with a forehoof a bit as he asks sleepily, “Damn thing’s bright as hell, mmkay? Could you turn it down a bit?” He yawns and flops over again, partially hanging off the medibed.

Oh yeah. Gearing’s not going to like him at all.

Gearing grumbles as he stares at the stallion that’s lost the war with unconsciousness again. “I’m _not_ a protectapony!”

Swift and Nahlah both perk up and start looking around. Handy raises a hoof high in the air, getting everyone’s attention before anyone else says anything. “Okay. What _are_ you then? You said you’d explain once everyone was gathered… so… here we are.”

Swift takes a step forward and gives Gearing a hard eye as she snarls, “You’re not with the Institute, are you?”

Gearing was about to say something, with his mouth wide open, then closes it and looks at her as he tilts his head. “Wait- what? What institute?”

Swifts eyes jump around his face for a few moments before backing up and focusing her attention elsewhere. “N- never mind. Forget it.”

Gearing’s tilted head leans and stretches towards her a bit as he tries to figure out her train of thought. He’s interrupted by a cough from Handy. He looks at Handy then nods. “Oh. Yeah. Well… Obviously…” He unfurls his wings out to their widest, causing a cascade of color behind himself as he strikes a pose with himself puffing up and his head slightly tilted, showing a profile of his face with his massive smile. “I’m a pegasus.” The light practically shines off his metallic teeth as he grins at them.

The spectacle is magnified by the fact that he seems to know just the right angles to turn his wings and crystalline shards that function as feathers to catch and reflect the most amount of light in the direction he wants.

Handy slaps a hoof over his face.

Swift looks at him only long enough to roll her eyes, with a motion that flowers through her whole body.

Nahlah’s eyes twinkle and she lightly claps as she grins.

The grey stallion farts in his unconscious state, drawing a distasteful look from both Swift and Gearing. Something for them to share.

Handy’s hoof slides down his face and after it falls off the front of his muzzle, he points his hoof at Gearing. “You know what I mean… You’re metal. Pegasi aren’t _metal_.” He points a hoof at Swift.

Gearing puts a hoof to his chest and slightly bows. “I know. Sorry, couldn’t help myself with the lighting in here. Anyway. I’m a clockwork.”

They all look at each other, and even Nahlah seems to lose some of her enthusiasm.

“A what?” Swift asks with a tilted head and a half closed eye.

Handy looks Gearing up and down as he asks, “That some kind of advanced model AI?”

Gearing sags his shoulders, and shakes his head hard a few times before stopping himself by putting both hooves to the sides of his head. He thrusts them both out towards Handy as he says. “I’m _not_ artificial, there’s _nothing_ artificial about-”

“Horseapples,” Handy and Swift say in unison.

Gearing grumbles and looks down at the floor plating as he tries to figure out how to explain it to this particular group.

Swift sits down and points at him as she looks at Handy. “What if he’s like Nettlekiss, his mind put in a machine?”

Handy looks over Gearing and bobs his head around. “It’s possible…”

Gearing grumbles as he interrupts any further comment, “No, it’s not.”

Swift directs her attention at Gearing. “Then how were you made?”

Gearing leans towards her and scowls. “How were _you_ made?!”

Swift’s head pulls back at having the question thrown back into her face like that. She shakes her head then half closes an eye. “I _wasn’t_ made! I was _born_.”

Gearing throws both hooves at her as he says, “So was I!”

Swift and Handy share sideways glances before Swift says, “I have a mother, who had me…”

Gearing points at himself with both forehooves “So did I! I was born just like all of you.” He points over at the bundle in Nahlah’s arms.

Swift’s head tilts the other way as she tries to makes sense of this. “How- how does that even… You’re gears…”

“It’s a curse.” This draws blank stares from everyone in the room. Gearing sits down and puts his hooves over his eyes as he runs everything through his head. He practically lays down then uncovers one of his eyes and points that forehoof at Swift. 

“What?” Swift asks.

“You- you know about magic and such, right?” Gearing asks as he tries to connect the dots in a way they will understand.

Swifts eyes partially close as she feels more than a little insulted. “Duh.” She shakes her head a moment and restates, “I mean as much as anypony does. I’m not a unicorn, but, I get it. Why?”

Gearing pulls himself up and points at himself. "This is massively oversimplifying… but… think of it as transmutation magic.”

Swifts ears perk up as her eyes widen. Gearing, seeing that there’s some piece of recognition here continues on as quickly as possible, “I’m under the effects of a transmutation curse. Without it I’d be a normal pegasus, like you.”

Swift and Handy exchange glances as they try to figure out what to do with this information.

“Who’d you piss off that did that to you?” Nahlah asks from the bed.

Swift and Handy turn to look at her, but then direct their attention back towards Gearing and Swift points back at Nahlah, trying to prod for an answer.

Gearing sits up straight, then says after a long sigh, “That’s the worst part of it… I wasn’t even the one that did it. It’s hereditary.” They look at him as if he has two heads so he adds, “It’s passed on by blood. Somewhere a long time ago, someone pissed off some deity or whatever. And were turned into … _this_.” He waves his front hooves at himself. He sighs and looks off to the side. “My mother had it… and I’ve had it since I was born. Any foals I’d father, would also carry the curse.” He looks at them and scowls. “Get it now?”

Handy and swift blink a few times, in unison.

Swift takes a step forward, looking him over, and asks, “By bloodline? How do you even-“

Handy leans over and mutters with his head turned back the other way, “He comes _fully_ equipped.”

Swift turns her head to look at him with an eyebrow raised, “What are you-?” She turns to look back at Gearing, and notices the way he’s sitting, a moment later her head whips back to look at Handy aghast, “What the hell!? Just what were you doing with him to notice _that_?! I thought you were straight!”

Handy takes a step away from her and waves both hooves in front of himself. “I couldn’t help but noticing!”

Gearing, smirks a bit, then turns his head sideways and avoids eye contact, looking rather bashful, as he says, “He had me all tied up… I- I was getting concerned for my chastity.” He fidgets with his forehooves and rubs them together.

Swift’s head whips over to look at Gearing with her mouth wide open, as does Handy. Handy yells out, “I was just making sure he wasn’t doing anything!”

Gearing grinds a forehoof into the floor and looks at Swift with big soulful eyes. “I couldn’t move if I wanted too... I- I don’t know what he did to me while I was knocked out… I came to all tied up with him running his hooves all over my body and this one pointing a laser at my head...” He points a hoof at Sarge.

“Zebra loving coward just laid there, no matter how much I taunted him,” Sarge confirms grumpily.

Handy yelps out, “It wasn’t like that!”

Swift spins around and bonks Handy on the top of the head with her pipbuck laden right hoof. “Keep your hooves to _yourself_!”

Gearing can’t help but smirk at the developments. He folds his left wing around his front, hiding behind it lightly, and trying to hide and distort his smile. A well executed prank is its own reward.

Nahlah starts laughing as Handy stoops down and holds his head. “What was that for?!” He groans and rubs the sore spot on top of his head.

Swift’s response is cut off by alarms blaring over the entire intercom system, including the pipbucks that all of them are wearing. Handy looks at his pipbuck then starts charging the doors as he says, “If you’re serious about helping, now would be a great time to prove it!”

Gearing side steps as Handy passes him, both doors to the medical bay open, allowing Swift, Handy, Gearing and Sarge to run through it.

As they are running, Handy yells out, “Stable-Tec, send a message to Scarlet, tell her to get to the front door _now_!”

“Confirmed,” the robotic voice of the stable comes over Handy’s pipbuck.

Gearing continues as fast as he can, feeling massively sluggish and having trouble going through his full range of motions. “What’s going on?!”

Handy looks back at Gearing and yells as they keep pulling away from him, “Proximity detector, and someone’s opened the outer doors!”

Gearing continues trotting after them as fast as he can. He looks at his legs and back at his flanks as he gets an increasingly sour look on his face. Something is indeed wrong with him, and he can’t quite put his hoof on what it could be. As he’s reaching the front door, a bolt of fire goes flying by him, quite literally, as a red pelted mare pegasus zips past him to stand by Swift’s side. By the time he gets to the large door that makes up the only way in or out of the stable, Handy has already pulled up the security footage of the area outside the door on a terminal.

Gearing peeks over Handy’s shoulder and sees a set of stairs descending from above. Given the design, and the controls he sees in the far end of the footage, he suspects there is an automated door that lays flat over them, hiding this area from the surface. There, in the center of the camera is a pair of ponies looking at the stable entrance. Gearing looks around at the others taking up the room he’s in, and can feel the tension rising. He’s seen this kind of thing before, and knows there’s about to be a fight. He looks back and forth from the group he is with, to the ones on the monitor.

How is he supposed to know which side is right? If it does come to blows, how can he really be sure he’s not helping a bunch of horrible ponies? He’s been threatened from the very onset. Repeatedly. Needlessly. Normal ponies wouldn’t do that. If nothing else, the ones outside the door haven’t done that, so they have that going for them.

Handy clicks a few controls and the sound begins coming in from the security footage and they can finally hear what the earth stallion and the unicorn mare are talking about.

“Fuck me running, there’s a sealed up stable down here!” the mare says as she walks up to him with wide eyes and her mouth barely off the floor.

The stallion nods. “This isn’t on any map I know of.”

The mare trots in place. “Oh man! Just _think_ of all the goodies in there! Just waiting to get picked up!”

The stallion nods and smiles. “Yeeaaahh. This isn’t on contract, but we can’t pass this up.” He turns to look at her. “Go get the thermal explosives, we’re going to crack this sucker.”

She springs up in the air and hoof pumps with her right forehoof. “Oh _hells_ yeah!” She turns around and starts towards the stairs, but stops just long enough to ask, “Think anyone’s still alive in there, Commander Bradoak?”

The stallion doesn’t even give it a second before he purses his lips to the side and responds, “Doesn’t matter. Probably not, but even if there is there won’t be once we’re done.”

The mare giggles and trots up the stairs. “We’re going to be _rich_!”

Tick.

Tick.

CLICK.

Gearing’s mind becomes clear and all previous questions are put on hold. Foal murdering for the purpose of profit? Not on his watch.

Handy holds onto the screen as he looks nervously at Swift. Swift steps away from the red mare long enough for Handy to tilt his head back slightly and say softly, with a hitch in his voice, and seemingly trying to keep the world from hearing the cursed words, “Gunners.”

Swift trots over and looks at the security footage. “What?!”

Handy nods and points a hoof at the screen. “His left shoulder. There’s no doubt. They’re Gunners…”

Gearing looks between the two, and can see this is having an affect on the others. He raises his hoof as he sits down. “Could someone fill in the clockwork, please? What’s a Gunner?”

Swift and Handy look at each other and Swift turns towards Gearing and frowns. “Gunners are high paid mercenaries. While in practice they’re not much better than raiders in how quickly they’ll kill you, they do have a code.”

Handy nods and adds, “Their loyalty is to the contract. That’s their number one. But, beyond that, they have no problem with killing anypony that gets in their way.” He looks over at Gearing and adds, “And they’re ruthless, well trained and, usually, very well armed.” He looks at the security camera and adds, “And they never send just a couple, so this is going to be a big fight at the least.”

Gearing steps over and starts going over the security footage of the hallway.

Handy looks at the others and says sadly, “I don’t know if we can win this.”

Swift pounds her power hoof into the ground. “Well we’re damn sure not going to just give up! Handy, we can’t go back outside. We _barely_ made it here. Our foals…” She shakes her head. “We need a home for our foals, and I don’t want to just hand it over to a bunch of mercenaries because they want it too!”

Handy nods and looks around at everyone. “Well, Scarlet?”

The red pelted mare rubs her forehooves together greedily. “Oh hell yes I’m going to _burn_ some sumbitches!”

Handy nods, then slowly, he regards Gearing. But says nothing.

Gearing shrugs. “What are you looking at me for? He just said he was going to kill everypony in the stable. If you think I’m just going to sit here and wait to be murdered, you’re dumber than you look.”

Handy smirks and Scarlet snorts out a loud laugh.

Handy nods quickly and looks at the screen. “Well… if it comes to that, we’ll fight. I’m going to try diplomacy first.”

Gearing shakes his head and looks at Handy with a sense of utter disbelief. He’d been threatening him all day, and all he did was wake up from stasis. These guys say they’re going to kill everyone in the stable, and take everything of value, and he wants to politely ask them not to? This makes no sense.

And Swift basically says the same thing Gearing is thinking.

Handy points at the screen as a pair of Gunners come down with crates. “I don’t want to kill anypony if I don’t have to.”

Swift stomps towards him and points back towards where they’d come from. “What about our _foals_!?”

Handy points at the screen. “What about _their_ foals? They might have kids waiting on them. They might _not_ be bad ponies! If we kill them, what happens to their children? Killing them would be a death sentence to their foals and I don’t want anymore blood on my hooves!”

Swift growls in his face, “ _Our_ foals come first. If they try it… Fuck them and whatever imaginary foals they may have!”

Handy looks at her absolutely appalled.

“Typically,” Gearing chimes in, “standard Rules of Engagement are clear… If they shoot or attack first, then it’s self defense… and their own fault. No reason to feel guilty over protecting your own.”

Swift turns her head and looks at Gearing quizzically. The word choice strikes a cord with her that she can’t quite place. However, she approves of the overall message, especially since it seems to have an affect on Handy.

Handy sighs. “Well. Let’s just see how this goes first.” He clicks on the microphone to the speaker box outside of the stable door. “Hey there. Would you mind terribly _not_ trying to blow open our door?”

The ponies outside jump and look around wide eyed. The unicorn mare trots up next to the apparent leader and comments, “Well fuck me! There’s ponies in this stable! Cha- _ching_!” She pumps her right hoof in the air. “Stable dwellers fetch an amazing price on the market!”

This comment causes Gearing’s eyebrow to rise, and Swift to actually shiver. Not a good sign.

The earth pony in the lead walks over to the camera he spots and asks, “Well, we’d be happy to oblige. If you just open up the door and surrender.”

Handy sighs as he asks, “Anyway I can talk you out of this?”

One of the other members of the Gunner group walks over and grins. “Oh, sure. We don’t mind. Come on out and we can talk!”

The earth pony rolls his eyes and looks over at other one. “They’ve been watching and _listening_ the entire time, moron. Don’t insult his intelligence.”

Handy chuckles. “Yeaaaah… sorry about that. Heard everything.”

The earth pony waves a hoof at the speaker box and half closes an eye at the other Gunner, who puts up both front hooves in surrender, before falling back to sit on the crate that he helped bring down.

Handy stares at the screen a bit longer before he asks, “You all are Gunners, aren’t you?”

The unicorn mare shouts back, “Hell yeah we are!”

The leader shoots her a glare, and she instantly shuts her mouth, dips her head, then turns around and goes to sit near the box. The leader turns his head back towards the camera. “So, you’ve heard of us?”

Handy nods, then, realizing the Gunner can’t actually see him adds, “I know of you, yes. I’ve heard you’re an honorable mercenary group. One with a code to follow your contract till the end.”

The stallion sits and folds his forehoves in front of himself as he stares at the camera. “I’d say that’s pretty accurate.”

Handy nods and asks, “Then, would you tell me what contract you’re on currently? You didn’t know the stable was here before you got here, so this can’t be your contract…Commander Bradoak”

The leader smirks. “You _were_ listening for a while… You’re right. The contract isn’t for the stable… A large group of raiders around here went missing, and we were sent to find out what happened to them. And, if they were still around here, to take them out. Mind if I ask who I’m talking to?”

“Handy, I’m in charge of keeping this stable safe.”

“I can respect that,” Bradoak says flatly.

“Thank you… Is there any way I can ask you to… forget about this stable? We’d be willing to pay a bit. We don’t have a lot, and that’s the truth, this place is falling apart. But I have some spare medical supplies, and several bottles of Wild Pegasus I’d be willing to give you for the trouble.”

Bradoak looks around and smirks, then back at the camera as he shakes his head. “We were told explicitly to report anything out of the ordinary and… well.” He waves a hoof around towards the stable door. “An uncracked stable _definitely_ fits. Sorry. Contract’s clear, I can’t just… _not_ report this.”

Handy turns off the mic and looks at Swift who just mouths at him, “Told ya so.”

Gearing sits there, hearing the entire conversation, though his head is no longer looking at the screen. He runs through a variety of scenarios as he slowly checks and massages his body. Of all the times he’s cursed and hated his body and not felt like he actually belonged in his own skin, the feeling is massively magnified. It’s gotten far worse since he was brought out of stasis. He’s realizing, it’s not that it’s getting worse, it’s that he’s becoming more clear headed and the fog is lifting. He’s just becoming more _aware_ of the problems he’s having.

“Handy,” the voice of Bradoak calls out after a long silence. “I’ll tell you what. I know what you’ve heard. But. I think a full intact stable would fetch a far better price. So… you go ahead, open the door, and come on out. I’ll let you and your people go… no one has to get hurt today… but if you make us come in there, and destroy the door in the process… well, it’s going to be nasty.”

Handy looks at the screen and his eyes dart around. “I need a moment to think.”

Bradoak waves a hoof. “Fine, but stalling won’t do any good. We’re not going anywhere, and you have until we get the charges placed to make up your mind.” He stands up and points at the other two and motions toward the door.

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait!” Handy calls out.

Bradoak turns to look at the camera sideways. “Time is money, Handy.”

“Wait,” Handy says softly, in resignation. “I need some reassurances. That my people, _all_ of my people, will be free to go. I’ll bring out the Wild Pegasus, and we can sit down, me, you, and your men, and talk it over a drink. And you can even have the rest of it after we’ve negotiated handing over the stable.”

Bradoak turns around completely and grins. “Well now, aren’t you being the reasonable one! Hot damn. Save us money on the explosives!”

Swift leans towards him and hisses, “You can’t be serious about handing over the stable! Handy, where will we go!?”

Handy raises a hoof towards her and says loudly into the intercom, “I’ll be out in a moment.” Then turns off the microphone. He turns to Swift and his eyes jump back and forth as he starts pointing at the ground. “Okay, there’s three down here. I don’t’ know how many are on the surface, the cameras and other sensors are down. But, we go out there, and take them out, then take out the others as they come down. Swift, you and I will lead the charge. Scarlet, you fly around and hit who you can, Sarge, you stay near the door and take out anyone that tries to get past us. If we’re lucky, and do this right, we can go up top afterwards and get the rest of his crew…” He says softly, “Assuming the noise of the fighting doesn’t bring them down that is…”

The others start looking glum, except for Sarge, who seems to be literally vibrating with excitement.

Gearing sits down and waves a hoof. “Uhm… excuse me… You’re forgetting something.”

Handy rolls his eyes, with his whole head, and asks, “What _now_?!”

Gearing thumps his chest. “ _Me_!”

Handy looks at him a moment, then can’t help but let a faint smile appear across his face as he asks, “Yeah. I guess I did… What can you fight with?”

Gearing pulls out a rod that had been attached to his side and flicks it out. “Well, I only have this now.”

Handy is far from impressed and his disappointment is painful to watch.

Gearing collapses the rod and shakes his head. “But, that’s not what I was talking about.”

Handy and Swift both tilt their head, not catching his meaning.

Gearing rolls his eyes. “Have you forgotten who I _am_ ?!” He stands up, fans out his wings, straight up into the air with his head looking straight up, then rotates the wings so they both, while fanned out, are pointing in the same direction to his right, with his head following suit. As his wings catch the various light sources, creating sparkles everywhere, Gearing grins and says with amusement coating his voice, “I’m _The_ Glorious _Bastard_!”

Scarlet snorts a laugh.

Gearing folds his wings neatly to his sides as his grin takes on a slightly mischievous tone. “I’ve also built these things… I can rig up a surprise for our friends out there that’ll even the odds.”

Swift and Handy’s ears perk up, and even Scarlet seems to have lost her amusement as they’ve given Gearing their undivided attention.

Swift’s eyes shift to Handy for a moment before looking back at Gearing. “Such as?”

Gearing waves a hoof around. “Oh, I have many tricks up my gears.” He points at his head. “It’s all up here… Just depends on what I have to work with buuuut… off the top of my head? How about sealing up that outer area and flooding it with gas?”

Swift’s and Handy’s eyes blink a few times.

Gearing rolls his eyes. “Look. I know you organics might not like this idea. But… that stuff doesn’t bother me. I don’t _breath_.”

Handy and Swift exchange glances and blink a few more times.

Gearing points at the monitor and says with a sigh, “The area out there has its own auxiliary air circulatory system. It’s kept separate so any contamination doesn’t get into the stable. _But_ , it still needs to circulate air, to make that area breathable… Sooo… We just get them all in there, even the rest of his crew, then I just tap into that auxiliary system, close off the system at specific points, and flood the room with gas. They’ll be dead before they can break through either door. No muss no fuss.”

Swift looks over at Handy sideways. “W- would that work?”

Handy’s eyes jump around for a few moments. When Swift actually turns her head to look at him Handy finally responds, “If the system’s segmented like that. Yeah…” He rummages in his saddlebag and pulls out a large crystal. “I have a chlorine talisman I salvaged a while ago… think you could use this to do it?”

Gearing looks it over and happily trots in place. “Definitely! Will just have to make a few more adjustments to make sure it stays gaseous, but I can definitely walk you through the process.”

Swift looks at Gearing and asks with a huff, “Why can’t _you_ do it? It’s _your_ idea and, like you said, you don’t need to breath!”

Gearing looks at her a moment then narrows his eyes before pointing a hoof and waving it between the two. “Because neither of you trust me, at _all_. And the only one with the ability to make the modifications to the system needed to do this would be a registered Maintenance Pony… like mister Head of Maintenance here.” He stabs a hoof towards Handy as he looks at Swift.

Before she can say anything Gearing adds, “Unless you want to transfer all control over to me now, and let me have access to _all_ systems, in which case I’ll gladly do it.”

Swift looks at Handy and glares daggers at him. “Do it.”

Handy already has his pipbuck up to his face, tapping out commands, before Gearing even finished his spiel. “I can just give him temporary access.”

Gearing shrugs. “Works for me. Maybe if we all survive this, you’ll actually trust me a bit.”

Swift smirks and puts her hooves close enough together that a gnat would have trouble getting between them. “A bit… maybe.”

Gearing’s pipbuck chimes and he looks at it as the robotic mare voice informs him, “Subject Gearing, Credentials verified as authorized member of ‘Temporary Maintenance’ roster. Authorization for maintenance duties and access granted.” Gearing snatches the crystal from Handy and says as he trots over to an access panel, “Keep him busy, and get the others in there. This won’t take long.”

Handy nods and looks at the monitor and turns back on the microphone. “Okay, Commander, I’ve let everyone know, but there are some concerns.”

Bradoak taps a hoof as he scowls at the camera. “You’re going to really make me waste all these explosives getting in there, aren’t ya?”

Handy replies quickly, “N- no! Not at all! You have to understand, we have mares and foals. They need assurances before they’re willing to just open the door and let you in.”

Bradoak tilts his head and frowns. “What kind of assurances?”

Handy taps on the side of the monitor as he counts out. “We want your word that you’ll let us _all_ go.”

Bradoak rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I already said that, didn’t I?”

“You were also talking about selling us to slavers,” Handy reminds him.

Bradoak shoots a glance at the unicorn mare who tries to whistle as she finds a particular piece of debris on the floor incredibly fascinating. Bradoak looks back at the camera. “Okay. You’re right. No selling to slavers.”

“Okay, good, and neither you nor your men will shoot us?”

“No.”

“You’re not going to just track us down to do it later, are you?”

“Not unless we get a contract to,” Bradoak counters flatly.

“But that’d require you to get _back_ to your boss first, right?” Handy asks.

Bradoak grins and nods. “Yessss, so you’d have a nice looooong head start by the time that happened.”

“No raping either. That’s not allowed either.”

Bradoak shakes his head and looks at the camera in horror. “The hell? I’m not going to rape you.”

“No one. No one rapes no one… no threats, at all,” Handy prods.

Bradoak slaps a hoof over his eyes. “Agreed.”

“We want your word on it. Your word as a Gunner that you’ll follow these terms,” Handy insists.

Bradoak grumbles then replies, “That’s what I saaaaid, isn’t it?”

“A verbal contract, is still a contract, Bradoak… so say it,” Handy points out.

Bradoak stands up straight and puts a hoof over his chest. “Neither me nor my men will harm any of you or your people, as long as we don’t have a contract to do so, and none of your people attack us first. Everypony in the stable is free to go. Does that sound fair?”

Handy catches a glint out of the side of his eye and sees Gearing sitting there, looking as pretty as can be. He strikes the same pose as before, silently, with his wings pointing off to the side of the hatch he just hopped out of.

Handy speaks into the microphone again, “That sounds like something we’d agree to, but first, you have to inform your men of the order.”

“What?” Bradoak’s voice comes out clearly indignant.

“There’s only three of you right there. I know you have more on the surface. We’re not coming out just to get gunned down the second we step out of the stairwell… so, bring down the rest of your men, and tell them, in front of the camera, so we can see it.”

Bradoak rolls his eyes. “Fine. Damn paranoid fucker.” He looks over at the other stallion and motions upstairs. “Tell the rest to get their asses down here. I want to be sleeping in a stable tonight.”

The subordinate hops up and runs up the stairs. Before he’s even off the stairwell he’s already yelling. “Hey! Commander Bradoak said to get your maggot asses downstairs before he beats your skulls in!”

Bradoak rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything about this creative interpretation of his orders. A few moments later a group of armed individuals starts trotting down the stairs. Handy’s arm starts shaking as he looks down at the dozen individuals taking up the space just beyond the door.

As they are gathered Bradoak begins reciting all of the various promises he’s made to the stable dwellers, and how they are all forbidden, by verbal contract, from doing anything to any of them except mean stares.

Gearing reaches over and lifts Handy’s hoof off the intercom button, drawing stares from both Handy and Swift. After establishing eye contact Gearing says flatly as he motions towards the door with his head, “Tell them the security protocol requires the outer door be closed, to open the inner door… Tell them it’s a contamination deterrent.”

Handy looks at him a moment and half closes one eye, not entirely grasping what Gearing is getting at, but then complies.

Bradoak waves it off. “I’ve heard about that kind of shit before. Go ahead. Hurry up and open up already.”

The outer doors start shutting and Handy’s eyes jump from the sight on the screen, over to Gearing who’s just finished tapping out a few commands on his pipbuck.

Gearing looks through a scroll of readings being presented to him from the stable, then looks up at Handy. He trails his eyes over to Swift and, as he’s bringing his eyes back to Handy he says flatly, “Blame me if it makes you feel better.” And slaps a hoof onto a button hanging from a cord out of the access port. The button seems to have been salvaged from an access port somewhere, and isn’t the prettiest job, but seems functional. Gearing slowly stands up, then walks over to the monitor and looks out into the entryway. 

Handy asks quietly, as if they’d hear through the door, “H- how long?”

Gearing shakes his head then shrugs. “I rigged up a pressure storage area for it while you were still talking to them. The moment the doors closed I started emptying that batch into the room… coming from the stairs.” He looks at Handy and says softly, “So even though it’s a heavy gas the lowest concentration will be right outside this main door… they’re already dead.” He turns back to look at the screen as he adds, “Just a matter of how long it takes for their body to figure it out.”

* * *

Footnote: PipBuck connection timed out.

Please wait, attempting to reestablish . . .

Please wait, attempting to reestablish . . .

  
  
  
  



	3. Knock Knock

The first sign of anything changing in the stable’s dim outer entrance is one of the bucks in combat armor fidgeting with his armor and clearing his throat. He stays sitting on one of the boxes they’d brought down while looking at the stable door and becoming increasingly uncomfortable. This clearing of his throat turns into a few hacking coughs.

A mare earth pony nearby looks him over with a look of disgust. “The fuck’s wrong with you?”

The buck shakes his head. “Nothing. Just that damn dust. Feels like I inhaled some of it or something. Scratchy throat.”

She side steps away from him. “Well keep that shit to yourself. I don’t want any of your taint.”

The mare unicorn from before leans towards Bradoak. “I don’t think they’re going to open up. What’s taking so long?”

The coughing starts to spread to a couple others, and the unicorn mare next to Bradoak turns around and looks at them. “Hey, you bastards better not be coming down with something. Medical supplies aren’t cheap.” She takes a couple steps towards them then starts blinking rapidly. “The fuck’s in my eye?” She sits down and starts rubbing her eyes with the back of her forelegs. A moment later she howls out in a screech, “ _Fuuuck_! _My_ eyes! Why the hell are they burning! Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck! What the hell did I get on me?! I think it’s in my eyes!”

She stumbles a few times, then looks around at her companions, who are in various degrees of coughing fits. She suddenly springs up to her fullest, with her eyes red and streaming water, at the sudden realization. “ _Gas_! It’s gas!” She looks over by one of the lights and sees the green hues moving in the air currents as she screams, “We gotta get out of here!” She runs up as fast as she can, stumbling the whole way, and starts quickly activating the button to the exit. Her horn glows faintly, illuminating even thicker green tinted fumes around her, using her magic to press the button before she even gets there. But nothing happens. She hops on it, and hits the various buttons repeatedly. 

But still nothing happens.

Handy looks sideways at Gearing who calmly replies, “Remote override shut down of the control box. It’s ‘Down for Maintenance’.”

The unicorn pulls out her rifle and starts shooting at the doorway, but it ricochets off harmlessly.

An earth pony runs up, spins around and starts hammering away at the doors with powerful bucking kicks. He tries holding his breath, and succeeds for a while, but eventually he has to breath. And when he does, it floods his lungs with such a concentrated fog that he instantly falls over clutching his chest.

Tears form on the edge of Handy’s eyes as he watches the nightmare unfold before him on the screen. He tries not to think of the loved ones that will never know what happened to them, and hopes beyond hope that whatever children they have, if there are any, will have some sort of support and be able to carry on with the loss that they’re inflicting today.

The screams of pain and despair become a symphony of misery as the members of the Gunners mercenaries try to escape. They try to survive. They do everything they can to get away. But fail. And fall. Their bodies losing the strength to fight, way before they’ve mercifully slipped their mortal coil as Gearing’s special mix quickly fogs the entire area.

Except for Commander Bradoak.

While the other ponies thrash around on the ground, foam coming from their mouths as lesions start appearing on various spots of their bodies. Commander Bradoak stands there, staring at the screen, with a scowl on his face as his posture remains, despite the same damage appearing on him that is afflicting his dying comrades.

When the last member of his party finally loses consciousness, and the only noise is foam filled haggard breathing, Bradoak finally comments, “Well that’s just fucking great. You really think you’ve won today, Handy Hooves?”

Handy stares at the screen, his eyes getting ever wider as he comes to a terrifying realization. He looks at Swift, then Scarlet, and says after swallowing hard, “It’s… It’s a _synth_!”

Scarlet’s eyes go to their widest as she takes an instinctive step back from the Stable door. “N- no… no nonononono.”

Swift hurries over and looks at the monitor. “Are you sure!? How’d they find us all the way out here?!”

Handy throws his hooves in the air before pointing with both of them at the monitor. “It’s the _Institute_! I don’t know…”

Gearing looks around, and then focuses on Sarge for a while in silence. Sarge returns the awkward stare until he eventually shrugs. Gearing, disappointed, turns to glare at the others as he asks, “And… What’s a synth?”

“A robot pony,” Handy says softly, more of an automatic reply than anything with any real thought put behind it as his mind races on what to do next.

“Like a protectapony?” Gearing points at Sarge before sliding over closer to look at the monitor.

“No.” Swift shakes her head. “They’re made by the Institute. They look exactly like a real pony. You normally can’t even tell until after you’ve killed one. They even bleed.” She turns her head to look at Gearing and notices the cold stare before she continues softly, “But they’re robots. Despite being organic.” She sighs as she closes her eyes and looks down. “And very, _very_ dangerous…”

Gearing stares at the monitor for a few moments before asking flatly, “You mean they’re the exact opposite of me?” This draws the attention of every pony in the hallway. “Okay, except for ‘potentially dangerous’, I mean I _did_ just kill a dozen ponies after only waking up about an hour ago…. But, I’m not organic. I was born, not built, yet I’m actually a living creature…” He jabs a hoof at the stable door. “So that _thing_ … is really pissing me off.”

Handy’s eyes jump back and forth. “This isn’t a time for a debate on your status.”

Gearing looks at him in the eye and says, flatly, “Fuck. _You_.” He walks up to the screen and stares at it as Handy pulls away from him. “It’s just a machine. It can be destroyed. Anything organic woulda already died in that soup I cooked up.”

“Watch yourself there slag heap,” Sarge comments. “I might take that as a personal threat… and enjoy the results.”

The earth pony standing outside has their skin start sloughing off as the gas mixture that Gearing had made continues to eat at their organic form. “Handy Hooves. We’ve missed you. How about you open up this door and we can talk… or I just blast it down. Your choice.” The voice becomes increasingly more gravelly as the voice box continues to be eaten by the corrosive fumes filling the entryway.

Gearing’s eyes jump back and forth between Swift and Handy. “How is it that he knows who you all are?” It didn’t slip past him that Bradoak had said Handy’s full name without prompting.

Scarlet huddles close to herself shaking as her eyes are as wide open as they can go. “They- they’re machines. Once they know of you… they _all_ know of you.” She looks over at Swift. “What are we going to do, Swift? I won’t let them take me again!”

Swift looks over at her and stamps a hoof. “That’s _not_ going to happen, Scarlet.” She looks over at Gearing, appraising him for a few moments before motioning towards the door with her head. “They are far tougher than a normal pony. The gas won’t be enough… especially since… I think it’s a- a hunter.”

Scarlet hunkers close to the ground shaking rapidly.

“Hunter?” Gearing asks semi unnecessarily.

Handy looks down at the ground as he holds onto the monitor with both forehooves. “A souped-up variation. Typically don’t even bother trying to act like a pony.” He looks over at Gearing and adds, “They are faster, stronger, and tougher than any pony could ever be. Just one of these things can wipe out a whole gang of raiders.”

“Even the Steel Rangers’ armor had its chinks…” Gearing says with a slight smirk.

Swift sits down and grins as she puts her hooves together just about a pencil’s thickness apart. “Okay, maybe a bit more.”

“Handy, Handy, Handy,” Bradoak says as he shakes his head, sending pieces of matted fur and sloppy organic material scattering around. “You shouldn’t have left the way you did… We want our property back.”

Scarlet falls down entirely to the ground and starts shaking violently. Swift trots over and holds her, letting Scarlet bury her face into her mane as she tries to comfort the crimson mare.

Handy replies back as he stares at the screen, “We’re not going back… We’d rather die than be in your ‘care’ again.”

Bradoak sighs as he nods his head. “I actually don’t doubt that at all…” He looks around at the bodies around himself before looking at the camera. “The wasteland does things to ponies… You didn’t use to be a murderer… I can see your resolve all around me.”

Handy flinches and his eyes go wide as another tear streaks down his face. He stomps with a hindhoof a few more times as he fights with himself. 

“Look, Handy,” Bradoak says before hocking up a massive bubbling bloody loogie that splashes and sizzles on the ground. “I’m going to make this easy for you.”

Handy looks up at the screen, but says nothing. Just watching, examining the synth grinning back at him and feeling the cold eyes even through the display.

“We know you have some oh so lovely little ones… They would make _excellent_ … ‘guests’ of ours… I’m sure we could get allll kinds of information with them. Although we’d prefer the original. The mother would be more preferred. Pure changeling DNA, untainted DNA.”

Swift stiffens and looks at the screen with a look of pure contempt.

“Bradoak, you’re not getting my children,” Handy says evenly as he temporarily clicks the button.

Bradoak sweeps his head around the room he is in and then brings his gaze back to the screen. “Yeah. I’m sure you’d have some kind of fall back plan for that. But, as cold as you’ve become to kill this many… Do you really have what it takes to murder your own children?”

Before Handy can hit the microphone button, Gearing stops him, and gets his eye contact before holding up his pipbuck for Handy to see. Handy’s eyes go wide for a moment, and Gearing nods towards the microphone as he removes his own hoof from protecting it.

[He’s playing you, Handy. He’s fucking with your head. Here’s how to reply…]

Handy looks at the screen and reads out loud flatly, “Don’t do anything that’ll let us all know that answer.” Handy looks at Gearing and raises an eyebrow.

Bradoak sits there a few moments, then chuckles. “Wow… cryptic… and cold… You _have_ changed, Handy Hooves.” He shakes his head then looks at the camera again. “Look. I get it. Family’s always been important. So, I have a deal for you. You get to keep your family, and we get our property back, and we’ll leave you here in this … tomb.”

Both Handy and Gearing look at the screen intently as Handy asks, “What do you want?”

“Well,” Bradoak begins with a rough cough. “There’s that little fire filly you let escape when you left. We want her back… Elementals are so rare these days, haven’t been able to find another specimen… We really need to breed some more. And, for that, we need the real stock.”

Scarlet’s eyes shoot wide and she scrambles to hold onto Swift, holding tighter and tighter. “Don’t let them take me, Swift! Please! Don’t let them take me!”

Swift holds her close, starting to have trouble to breath from the oppressive grip, but continues to try and soothe her as she says softly, “Everything’s going to be okay. Don’t you worry.”

“While we’d prefer to have a living changeling sample… We’d rather not risk losing all of it. So, you just give us some blood and tissues samples, and we’ll just have to make do with replicating and using that. But the elemental isn’t genetic, as far as we can tell, so we _need_ her to understand it better… Once we either find, or make, another sample, you can have her back.”

Gearing looks over at Scarlet and his disposition sours. He can only imagine what she’s been through. From her reaction, he wouldn’t doubt if it was as bad or possibly even worse, if that’s even possible, than what happened to Nettlekiss. 

“Oh, there’s also one more piece of property we want back.”

Handy’s head lifts up just high enough to look at the monitor. “What’s that? The moon?”

Bradoak chuckles. It’s a hideous sight, with his face seeming to slowly droop and peal off on one side in some disgusting display of reddish flesh and matted pelt. “It’s just a box. A crate that was sent here before the war.” He waves his hooves around. “If it’s still in there, we want it.”

Handy looks the monitor over and asks softly, “What’s in it? That’s a long time ago. It might have already been opened, if so… I’d need to find it, or whatever’s left of it.”

Bradoak raises his shoulders in a disgusting shrug, his armor sliding to the side over the partially dissolved flesh. “We don’t actually know. That’s why we want it. Someone went to a great deal of trouble to keep the contents out of record… So just hand over that crate, and whatever might have been in it and we’ll be good to go.”

He taps out a few commands at the terminal nearby him that’s locked out, except for the messaging system. A moment later both Handy and Gearing’s pipbucks get the message as it was addressed to the maintenance department. 

Handy looks it over for a moment and shakes his head. “I don’t recognize this format. It’s not a standard Stable-Tec inventory code.”

But Gearing recognizes the code, he saw it on the side of a certain faux crate not an hour ago while he lay on the floor hogtied.

Bradoak raises both of his hooves. “What can I say, Handy, it was probably sent to the wrong address. Or, maybe they wanted to keep it safe, and no where was safer than a stable.”

“So, even if it’s just an empty crate, you’ll accept that?” Handy asks as he looks at the monitor.

Bradoak frowns. “I hope that doesn’t mean you’re planning on looting it before giving it to us. But, if that’s the way you find it, we can hardly blame you.” He grins a wide toothy smile with teeth streaked in crimson. “We _know_ you’re an honorable pony, Handy. You’ll do the right thing.”

Handy watches Gearing slowly walk over to Swift and Scarlet. Handy asks, while keeping his eyes on Gearing, “So, the crate, samples, and… your guest… then you’ll leave us be, right?”

“That’s the deal. Told you it was easy,” Bradoak says with a grin.

Scarlet scrambles on Swift, begging quietly, “Don’t please. Swift. Don’t let them do this.”

Handy smacks his lips a few times before asking, “We have a medical bot. It can get the samples you need. Will that suffice?”

“Sure.” Bradoak waves a hoof dismissively. “I mean, _I’m_ in no shape to get the samples. I’d contaminate them all.”

Handy looks at Swift, who returns the flat stare, and asks, “How… how can we be sure we can trust you?” He looks at the screen and asks, “You’re cold, calculated, and are a machine without feeling.”

“What about it?” Bradoak tilts his head.

Handy shakes his head. “Prove that there’s something… some kind of FEELING behind this… some bit of goodness that will give me a reason to trust you.”

Instantly Bradoak pulls out a black box from its holster at his side, aims the end at an earth pony that’s long gone silent. A faint click can be heard before the red beam shoots out and hits the pony’s head, after a moment, the entire buck, or what was left of it, glows with a faint yellow and red, before collapsing in on itself as a pile of slightly glowing ash.

Handy hits both hooves against the monitor before he screams, “Why’d you do that?!”

“It’s kinder this way, isn’t it?” Bradoak looks up at the screen and shrugs. “At least giving them a cremation, instead of leaving them to melt into a cesspool that you all will have to clean up.”

Handy groans and asks, “And what about the rest of the Gunners? You can’t go back like that. And they’re going to want to come looking if they know their crew went missing around this area.”

Bradoak waves a hoof dismissively. “I’ll self terminate after the exchange is complete. They’ll never know we were here. We left no notice of our destination… The others didn’t even actually know where we were going. They were nothing more than a means to an end, and you’ve saved me the trouble of having to clean up that loose thread.” He gives a slight bow with one hoof across his chest. “Thanks for the assistance.”

Handy feels absolutely sick to his stomach. He says softly, “I get it. I hear you. We’ll talk about it.”

***

Outside the stable’s door Bradoak’s eyes, what’s left of them, narrow on the camera. “You can’t simply out last me. This gas isn’t enough to kill me, you _know_ this. These fools brought more than enough ordinance with them to blow open a stable. I made sure of it. Though it was just a precaution, so if you think you can-“

Scarlet’s voice gets louder and louder over the speaker as she shrieks, “Don’t let them do it! Don’t let them do it! No! Swift! Help me, Swift! You gods damned traitors!” The transmission to the outer entryway turns into a loud screech and crackle with the sound of electricity arcing, then goes silent.

Bradoak stares at the camera for a few moments, then at the speaker. “What are you all doing in there? Handy?”

The stable’s robotic mare voice comes out of the speakers a few moments later. “Beginning decontamination protocol. Flushing unknown chemical contaminant from stable entrance. All personnel please stand by for stable door opening protocol.”

Bradoak looks at the speaker and around quickly, wondering what they are getting up to now. Before his gaze returns to his other side, a gust of air blows past him. He trails his eyes from side to side, tracing the air coming in, and smiles slightly as he sees the air slowly clear as the fog that had been thickening in the entryway starts filtering out as it’s ejected into the atmosphere through the exhaust system. “Haaaandy... what are you doing?”

The stable’s robotic mare voice replies a moment later through the speaker near him, “Commander Bradoak. The communication console at the entryway has been damaged by an electrical discharge. The stable door will be opened the moment the contaminants have dropped to a safe level.”

Bradoak sits down and shakes his head. “I’m already dead. There’s no need to flush the air now.”

The voice responds, “We are concerned with contamination of the stable. The stable will be opened once decontamination protocol allows.”

Bradoak sighs and looks around at the bodies around him, the various hairs moving independently by the rushing air. “I’m not going to wait forever, Handy.”

“You are in pain. Is there anything we can do for you, Commander Bradoak?” the robotic voice replies.

Bradoak shakes his head and laughs a throaty bastardization of a laugh. “Now, _that_ sounds like the Handy we know and love… No. That is unnecessary. My function will cease once the exchange has been made. Do not concern yourself with my failing body.”

After several minutes of this circulation of air, Bradoak gets annoyed and asks, “How long are you going to stall?”

The robotic voice replies, “The entrance way has a small air evacuation passage and small pumps. It was meant to slowly cycle air over longer periods of time. Hours. The system was never designed to circulate all of the air in minutes.”

Bradoak looks at the camera and raises a deformed eyebrow. “But you managed to flood the entire room with gas awfully quick.”

“For the same reason this is difficult to remove, is the reason it was easy to add. Pumping in the fumes into an enclosed space is easier than pumping all of the air out in such a way that removes all of the contaminants.”

Bradoak thinks about it a few moments and notices the air pushing out from the stable towards the entryway trapdoors. “That makes sense. This area wasn’t designed to house life for long, just to blow out any contaminants from getting into the stable as it’s opened.”

“Affirmative,” the voice replies.

Bradoak walks over to the explosives, and shoves off the sloshy corpse of the buck that first started having the coughing fits. “Well I’m getting impatient. If you think this’ll hold me long enough for you to come up with some escape plan, you’re dead wrong.”

He opens the crate, and starts pulling out blocks as the air cuts off. A moment later the siren wails, and the lights around the stable door start spinning as the prerecorded automatic message plays. “Attention stable residents. The stable door is now opening. Please remain clear of the door until it has come to a complete stop.” 

Bradoak turns around and starts trotting up to the entryway as the door begins sliding to the side. The voice surrounding him says loudly, with warm tones, “Welcome, to Stable 68. Safety underground.”

Bradoak grins ever more as the door slides open. “Well hot damn!”

Before the door gets very far open, a dark shape blocks the light a moment and moves in a blur through the opening door. Bradoak’s eyes start opening wide as the zipping shape of Swift, head low and murder in her eyes, comes charging out at him at full speed. He scrambles backwards, pulling out his weapon, but jumps back and away from her as she begins a flurry of hoof strikes at him. His shots go wide, and she ends up disarming him by striking his jaw with her power hoof encased left hoof, following it up by rolling around and swinging all of her legs at him, mostly missing, but catching one of his hind legs in the back of the knee, making him drop down.

The next figure on him, he barely saw approaching as Handy swings down a massive hammer towards Bradoak’s head. Bradoak manages to lean back, avoiding the main strike, but Handy follows through with a quick backswing that does catch Bradoak in the side of the head and sends squishy flesh soaring.

However, it seems to have little effect as Bradoak stops the next swing cold with his hoof, headbutts Handy, making him drop the mallet, while simultaneously bucking Swift in the side, hard with his right hind leg. Swift and Handy stager back, and take positions on either side of him as they circle him.

Bradoak grins at Handy and taps the mallet on the ground with his hoof before breaking the handle. “You really screwed up, Handy. We were going to make this easy on you… And with you out _here,_ there’s no worry about you killing your children before I can get to them.”

Both Swift and Handy jump at Bradoak at the same time, having perfect timing. Their attacks come in from opposites sides, and Swift’s even entirely out of his view range, but it doesn’t matter. Bradoak is still faster. He grabs Handy and spins around, using him to bash Swift into the ground, then flips around and bucks them both a distance away, skidding through the refuse and gore that now litters the entryway.

As he turns his attention towards them, and crouches to jump at them, a glint in the puddle of blood below him catches his attention, he turns his head with unnatural speed to look at its source above and behind him.

But not quick enough to do anything about it.

Gearing’s heavy form crashes into him, with the long black rod he’d pulled out earlier. But, unlike earlier, the rod is alive in his grasp. The end crackles with energy, and Bradoak’s eyes go large in recognition before his entire body starts jerking and spasming involuntarily.

Gearing drives Bradoak into the muddy floor with his own weight, but the high voltage stun rod in his mouth bites in deep, and the electricity that he dumps out of it is absorbed greedily by the synth’s all too willing flesh and the robotic components may be under it.

Gearing uses the prod to pole vault over Bradoak, holding him down and dumping the electricity into him at the highest rate his weapon will allow, while keeping his own distance. He lands on the ground with all four hooves, fanning out his wings with a gush of air to stabilize himself. Gearing stomps down into the ground, kicking up a large rifle that one of the Gunners had dropped while in a coughing fit.

He hops up and back, partially taking flight, as he springs through the air, and plants the barrel’s business end directly against the temple of the synth. As the residual electrical energy arcing through the synth jumps from the twitching body to Gearing, arcing all along his surface and sparking between the various gears as they turned and go about their own business, he pulls the trigger.

BA-DOOSH.

And if that wasn’t enough, he fires a few more times as the electricity causes his body to shake, firing as fast as he can.

BA-DOOSH BA-DOOSH BA-DOOSH.

Handy and Swift get to their hooves and stare at Gearing in disbelief. He looks over at them, twitching erratically with random sparks shooting off as the electricity dissipates. Each spark accompanied with a slight twitch and a monotone, “Ow,” escaping his lips.

Handy screams out, “What. Have. You. _Done_?!” as he slaps his forehooves on the sides of his head before jumping over to check on Bradoak.

Gearing steps away from Bradoak, picking up his electric prod and stowing it as he says, “Destroying it. Wasn’t that the plan?”

Handy shakes his head, tears on the edge of his eyes again as he grumbles, “It was still a life. We could have talked something over while we had him subdued. You didn’t have to _kill_ him like that, you already had him incapacitated!”

Gearing takes a few steps backwards, glaring at Handy, as he growls, “Oh. That is fucking _rich_!” He thrusts a hoof towards the corpse as he says, “You treat that … that... _machine_ with more consideration than you do _me_! It tried to kill you, your wife, and steal your children, and there you are _crying_ over it, when you’ve threatened wholesale slaughter of me and all I did was _wake_ up!”

Handy shakes his head and looks at Gearing. “It’s- it’s not like that! You don’t realize what you’ve _done_!”

Gearing looks at Handy over his shoulder and grumbles, “Yeah, I do, actually.” He spins around and points a hoof at Handy. “Nettlekiss tasked me with guarding her foal. That’s _all_ she cares about. This fucking _thing_ said it was going to kill it… Ergo it had to be _destroyed_.” He turns around and starts rummaging through the equipment of one of the dead gunners. “I already failed that mare once, I’m damn sure not going to do it again… especially at the cost of a foal’s life.” He looks back at Handy as he spits out some ammo he’d managed to dig out of a pouch onto a cloth he’s laid down. “So go fuck yourself with your bigoted ass.”

Handy’s eyes are directed down as a slight sloshing catches his ears. He looks down and notices the body of Bradoak seems to have started to liquefy again. “No, oh no, no, no. Shit!” He grabs the head, and turns it, directing it to look at himself. He keeps slapping his hooves at it, trying to get the eyes to point towards him as he speaks, “Hey! I know you can hear me! Just… just _stay_ away! That’s all we want! Just leave us alone. We’re not a threat to you, and if you keep coming after us it’s just going to keep getting costly. You guys _hate_ wasting resources, that’s why you stay hidden. So… Just stop already!” His hooves desperately hold onto the head, as much as he can, as it slowly dissolves into a gooey mess between them. 

Gearing trots over to the folding trapdoors to leave, and hits the button. Handy hops up and spins around looking at him. “The hell you going to do now?!” Handy’s eyes dart from looking at the metallic pegasus, to looking at the weapon that he seems to be very proficient with, judging by the way Gearing’s cradling it.

Gearing glances over at Handy as he motions with his head towards the surface. “I’m going to confirm if there’s any more threats. If so, I’m going to remove them.” He starts trotting up the stairs and Handy darts after him.

Handy looks at Swift as he passes her. “Get back in the stable, but keep the door open in case we have to make a quick retreat back here.” She nods and runs into the stable, skipping over all over the corpses and doing her best not to slip in the disgusting slime. Inside, Scarlet and Sarge are at strategic positions watching the stable door, and welcome Swift back, who quickly joins their barricade.

Gearing stops near the top of the stairs, and starts slinking very slowly up the last few as he gets as small and as low to the ground as he possibly can. Handy zips up next to him and taps him on the shoulder, not getting as much attention from Gearing as Handy would like, but at least earning him a quick sideways glance before he continues zipping his eyes around.

“Stop a minute!” Handy hisses at him softly.

“I’m not going to give them a chance to kill the foal. _If_ they make it back we’ll have both of those organizations after us.” Gearing keeps his eyes on the one door he can see from the top of the stairs that seems to be the only exit for the room this stairway accesses.

Handy looks at him for a moment then shakes his head. “No. I mean. That’s fine. Just wait up; you don’t know what’s out there.”

Gearing looks at Handy sideways a moment then rolls his eyes. “D’uuuh… that’s what I’m going to go _find_ out… But if you don’t shut up you’ll give my location away.”

Handy looks him over for a moment before he asks, “What’s your plan this time?”

Gearing motions with the rifle at the door. “I’m going to slip out, and get a view from above what’s going on. If I fly high enough they won’t even be able to hit me, even if they _can_ see me.”

Handy’s eyes go big for a moment before he asks, completely out of dumbfounded reflex, “You can _fly_?!”

Gearing looks at him, and sets the rifle down, before he gently bops his metallic hoof on top of Handy’s head. “I’m a _pegasus_. It’s kind of our thing.” He waves at Handy with one of his wings.

In a typical earth pony form of stubbornness, Handy still doesn’t believe it. But, while he wants to try to figure this out, he decides he needs time for that, and now is not that time. “Okay. Well. Don’t fly too high.”

Gearing glances at Handy and chuckles as he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, I can’t hit the sun and my wings won’t melt.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Handy shakes his head. “It’s not safe up at cloud level.”

Gearing turns his head and stares at him with a look of complete confusion. “What? Clouds are harmless. They can try to get a bit wild at times, but manageable enough. I lived in the clouds. Cloudsdale ring any bells?” Gearing chuckles. “Clouds. They’re kinda our thing too.”

Handy looks at him a moment then shakes his head. “The pegasi closed up the skies a long time ago. When the war was still going on from what I understand. They have some kind of defense network and anyone that tries to pass higher gets fried. Pegasi or not…”

Gearing regards Handy for a few moments, and shakes his head. “N- no… they wouldn’t do that. I mean… We had entire armies up there. Loyal soldiers. There’s no way they’d just … _betray_ the princesses like that!” He stamps a hoof. “You have to be mistaken!”

Handy looks at Gearing with true sadness and gently puts a hoof on his shoulder, carefully not touching his crystalline wings. “Things change, Gearing. Just… go see for yourself… but brace yourself, because the wasteland’s not a pretty sight.”

Gearing takes in a few deep breaths, not for the need for air, since he doesn’t breathe, but the deep irrational need to snort out his contempt at this thought. The betrayal that would be necessary to abandon the rest of Equestria strikes him in a way that is unconscionable. What about the princesses? He’s afraid to ask. Despite his personal opinions of the nobility, he’d never betray the princesses. But, one horror at a time. He turns his head with a snort and slinks away, quickly slipping through the door, almost silently, and out of Handy’s sight.

Gearing hurries down the hall as quickly and quietly as he can. It doesn’t take him long to exit out of an administrative office, and into the customer section of some sky wagon convenience store service station. He slinks around the counter low and slow, and pauses at the back door. He looks down at himself, covered in the goop from looting the fallen. As bad as that makes him look at the moment, his eyes settle on other parts of himself. He moves his forelegs a bit, testing his shoulders. Yes, they are still acting funny. He’s not positive, but he’s starting to wonder if the stasis weapon has left some kind of lasting effect on him. He just doesn’t feel like himself, and is having a hard time moving around in his own skin. It’s like he feels disconnected almost. From himself.

A disturbing thought clicks through his mind: _What if this is all some kind of set up._ Some kind of magically induced scenario meant to trick him into thinking it was reality. This whole thing is rather absurd, isn’t it? How could he go from being in an office, surrounded by hundreds of dutiful ponies, to suddenly waking up and the war being over? As unlikely as it may be that it could be a ruse, he can’t discount it. Memory stealing magics aren’t always perfect, so they may have him in a stasis pod somewhere trying to get him to reveal some crucial information. All of this could have been an illusion, faked since, his last trip to a stable? That maneframe data depot? Things have gotten increasingly more strange since that point. Like who on Equus would think an experiment with 1000 ponies locked in a stable, and only _one_ of them being a mare, was a good fucking idea? That’s beyond ridiculous. There’s no way that could be real. Maybe it’s best to just keep fighting. He opens the door, checks that it’s clear outside of anypony, then runs through it, and takes flight. Quickly gaining altitude as he flies up and away from the service station.

If this was some kind of hoax, and someone was being paid to get him to believe the world really had ended.

They needed a fucking raise.

* * *

Footnote: Please wait, attempting to reestablish . . .

Please wait, attempting to reestablish . . .

Primary Node query timed out. Attempting secondary…


	4. The Wasteland

Gearing shoots up as fast as he can, gaining altitude with each powerful pump of his crystalline wings. Flying up, and up, feeling the air zip by him and tickle across his wings, whipping the ultra-thin fiber that make up his tail and causing his metallic mane to lay flat against his brassy dome. But, no matter how far he rises above it all, he can’t rise above the facts appearing all around him, literally as far as the eye can see.

This. This is hell.

The greenest thing out here, in all of Equestria as far as he can see of it anyway, is his own crystalline wings. Whatever grass there is, is dead, dying, and always some shade of brown or gray. He can pick out buildings in the distance, in a few directions. Some he recognizes. Some he can’t.

Probably because there isn’t much building left _to_ recognize.

He’d had thoughts, increasingly so, about getting out of the stable at the first opportunity, and making a bee line for a ministry HQ. But, what’s laying before him says that he needs to plan this out far more than his original thoughts lead him to believe. He may have been truly lucky to have been locked away in the stable. The literature was pretty graphic. And the ones he had access to weren’t the civilian copies, which had been edited to prevent crashing morale. No, the copies he’d been supplied with were grim. They were bleak. They were horrible. They were Nightmare Moon in the flesh unleashed upon the land.

They were tragically inadequate for what was before his eyes.

Not an order of magnitude off target, just slightly off. Not a perfect 10 point score on the rifle range by any means, but firmly seated on the 8/9 line just right of center. Still a kill shot to Equestria, but the reality left fewer buildings than anticipated and, if the time on his pipbuck is correct, the so called recovery is decades past due to even start.

Gearing looks up at the sky. Overcast he was used to. After all, rain is a part of normal weather in Equestria. Need it for the crops. But, this sky was different. He’s not sure why. Maybe it was his pegasus blood, or whatever you want to call the fluids flowing through his metallic body. But the sky looked out right angry to him. The clouds themselves seemed to hate Equestria as a whole, and kept it covered up from the sun. Like some bigoted hateful mother covering her foals eyes so she didn’t have to look at the zebra (or clockwork) they were walking past. These clouds didn’t seem normal at all, and they are, without a doubt, covering up the sun. And, it’s at this point, Gearing’s temper rises quickly.

_They are denying Equestria Celestia’s gift! The sun itself!_

With this, the betrayal has come complete in his mind. Regardless of anything else, this would be _hard_ to explain. He looks down at the ground, looking for somepony to take out his frustrations on as he decides he’s going to have some really cross words for the next pegasus he runs across.

He begins a circling search pattern above the service station, not going very wide, but wide enough that he’s sure he can pick out anyone close enough to be a problem. But, there’s no one. Not in the rubble around the station, and not on the roof. Not that there’s many places for anyone to hide, especially from a discerning eye from above, but still, the area is eerily still, and devoid of life.

Now the only problem is the Station itself. He hadn’t cleared it out yet, and it is the only structure nearby that provides adequate cover from eyes in the sky. Even if only in a few spots. He dives down, losing all of the altitude in a calculated fall, feeling the wind rushing by him and can’t help but smiling. Freedom and the skies have always been one of his simple pleasures.

Well, simple for a pegasus, anyway.

He angles around, getting a good side view of the north side of the building, and zips down in a maneuver that quickly takes him counter clockwise around the building, landing on the south side at a full trot before coming to stop just before the corner. The other sides, and the windows he zipped by, held no clues to any life. The only other place to check is the large overhanging roof on the west side of the station where the large sky wagons could pull under to get out of the elements. He stands listening for a few moments. His ears twitch, scanning the wind and trying to discern the location of some noise he’s picking up. A slight rustling. Not in sync with the wind. Independent. Almost alive.

And if that expert analysis left him any questions, the loud ringing of a dull sounding bell certainly dispelled any doubts.

He sneaks up to the corner, sliding back as much as he can. He slips his head sideways, poking just an eye around the corner as he stays as low to the ground as possible. He pulls his head back the moment his eye had cleared the concrete enough to get a view at the source of the noise.

He sits there staring at the corner, waiting for any sound of anyone noticing his presence as he processes what he’d seen. There appears to be a group of ponies, in a wagon, inside of a large cage. The back of the wagon is nearest to him, and on the other side of it, judging by the hanging low utters, is a cow. She seems to be hooked up to the wagon, from the distance, but no one else is in sight.

He slides around the side, zipping into the entrance of the service station and double checking that it is truly clear. He pops back out, keeping low, and slinks up to the cage wagon. He pokes his head up, and stares straight into the eyes of a small earth pony, whose eyes jump to their widest, and they quickly retreat from the shock.

Gearing straightens up, waving a hoof at his mouth trying to shush them but freezes as he gets a look at the contents of the wagon. At the back of the wagon, a group of ponies cram themselves into the far side of the cage. Their eyes wide and their bodies shaking. Fear. He doesn’t have to be a diamond dog to smell it. They reek of it.

Well, they reek period, the fear is just the thing disgusting him the most.

The cage is full of a variety of filth. Their own mostly. The hay inside is matted and sticking to them in areas as they’ve not been able to get away from their own waste. In the far side he notices another pony, laying sprawled out, and quite dead. And had been dead for a while. Judging by the scorch marks around their shoulders and the complete lack of a head. The blood around the void where the base of the neck had been has long since dried into a tacky, oozy substance giving testimony to the not so recent death as well.

The other ponies had no choice but to stay in the cage with the corpse. The Gunners apparently either didn’t want to risk them running away while they cleaned it up, or simply didn’t care. And if that bit of information wasn’t enough to make Gearing want to wage the warpath across all of Equestria, the next realization surely galvanized his resolve.

They were all foals. Every. Last. One. Most didn’t even have their mark on their flank.

He directs his eyes over them as they shiver and shake. One of the little fillies moans, “No one move. Protectaponies can’t see you if you don’t move.”

One of the young colts elbows her. “That’s not it. Just don’t attack it. Don’t even _think_ about attacking it.”

One of the older colts, still obviously scared, shakingly so, but apparently protecting the rest of them with his very body, faces Gearing down with a terrified, but strong resolve. “As if slavers weren’t bad enough…” he mutters.

Gearing looks at the one who’d just spoken, a dark yellow colt, and asks with a whisper, “Where’s the Gunners?”

They all freeze. Several exchange glances.

The young colt from before asks with his mouth hanging open, “It- it spoke?!”

The older colt elbows him and stares at Gearing with narrowed eyes. “Of course they can speak… they can _hear_ too, you know.”

Gearing sighs and looks around again, his ears twitching around like little satellite dishes searching for a signal. “Gunners. _Where_?!”

They all look at him, and none of them say anything. Out of fear of making the Gunners mad, or fear of saying something and provoking him to attack, he can’t tell.

Gearing stands up more, and leans towards the bars. “Do you want _out_ of that cage, or _not_?” he hisses at them.

Their eyes zip around as they all try to look at everyone else.

The older colt leans towards him a bit. “You gonna let us out? For real?”

Gearing bobs his head around. “That was the plan, after I deal with the rest of these Gunners.”

The other ones look at each other quickly, and the older one scrambles over to the side, having decided to take this chance, beatings and death be damned. “They all went in that way! One of the others came out here and told them all to get downstairs. That was a while ago. Hurry, let us out before they get back!” He points a hoof over at the gate.

Gearing stands up straight and looks at the colt for a few moments. “Twelve of them? Lead by Commander Bradoak?”

The children cringe at the very mention of his name, a couple even start crying. The young colt spits off to the side and shakes a hoof at Gearing. “Yeah, Thems the bastards all right… He’s the toughest of the bunch! He’s got a mean right buck to him too…” He rubs a hoof over his side, wincing at not only a recent memory, but the bruised ribs that give testimony to the treatment.

Gearing slings his rifle over his shoulder and sits down. “Oh. There’s no rush then.” He looks them over and waves a hoof dismissing any need for speed.

The colt grabs a hold of the bars, even biting at it a few times, before saying in frustration, “You’re insane! Come on! Let us out… nice protectapony… come on and help ole Apple Armor out of here…” Gearing doesn’t move at all, and the colts desperation surfaces as he beats on the bars some more. “Come on you metal wanker! If you wait too long, that Bradoak wanker will come back and kill you! And probably me too just for talking to you!”

Gearing replies flatly, “That’s not going to happen.” And continues to stare at the various children in the pen.

Apple Armor leans against the bars and growls, dragging his teeth along the disgusting metal. “Ohhh Mr. wanker protectapony thinks he’s all big and tough. Well you ain’t _shit_! Bradoak will smash you into scrap!”

Gearing returns his casual gaze to Apple Armor. “That would be impossible. considering I already killed them all…”

The group freezes, one kid actually snorts a laugh. Apple Armor smirks. “Yeah right… you? By yourself? Pull the other one!”

Gearing stares at him a moment and asks, “You said twelve, right? And they went in a while ago? All at the same time?”

Apple armor nods slightly. “Yeah… Why?”

Gearing shrugs then points a hoof behind him. “I can show you the bodies if you want… You were right, Bradoak was a tough bastard…” He grins and tilts his head as he slightly looks up and to the side, showing off his smile more. “I put an extra three rounds in his head, at point blank, just to make sure…” He wiggles his eyebrows as he practically gloats.

The others start looking around at each other. Apple Armor says in disbelief, “You’re lying. No ones that tough.”

Gearing shakes his head. “I’m not… I’m just smart… really smart.” He taps on his head and smiles. “I have a few old school tricks. Turned the odds in my favor. Now… speaking of being a clever pony… How about you tell me what those things are?” He points at Apple Armor’s neck.

Apple Armor spits off to the side then looks at Gearing. “For being sooo clever, you’re kind of stupid. It’s a slave collar. It goes boom if you try to take it off… or try to run… or they get bored… _Everypony_ knows that.”

Gearing puts a hoof over his chest and says in mock shock, “Well I didn’t, that’s why I asked.”

Apple Armor looks at him, then sags his shoulders a bit. “Stable pony?”

Gearing shrugs and smiles. “You could say that.”

The majority of the colts look at him with an exasperated frown. Several say, almost in unison, “Stable ponies don’t know nuthin’.”

Gearing tilts his head and can’t help but smile. Stable pony. They probably mean it as some kind of slur. But he doesn’t care. Whatever they mean by it, it’s far better than ‘protectapony’ as far as he’s concerned. He leans in and raises a hoof towards Apple Armor’s neck.

Apple Armor jumps back instinctively. “Hey now, ya wanker! Don’t get so hoovsy!”

Gearing thinks about it for a few moments, and realizes he can’t march a group of… sixteen… walking bombs into the stable. That would be a security risk he wouldn’t have made as a rookie. Not to mention there may be some proximity detector that’ll detonate them if they get too far away. He grins and waves his forehooves. “I was just curious about that… I hadn’t seen one before… Mind if I take it? So I can examine it?”

Apple Armor rolls his eyes. “It’ll blow up if you mess with it, I already told you that, ya stable pony wanker.”

Gearing leans towards the bars, tilting his head to the side, and grins. “I’m mechanically inclined… can’t you tell?” He taps on his own head and chuckles. “I can get it off, no worries.” Apple Armor doesn’t seem very impressed so he adds, “Hey, I’m going to have my face point blank with it. I’m not going to do something that’ll get my _own_ head blown off… I’m crazy, not stupid.”

Apple armor looks at him for a few moments then asks, “Well… what’d you give me for it?”

Gearing tilts his head “What?”

Apple Armor grins. “Well, you want my necklace. You’ve never seen one before… It’s a _special_ necklace… if you want it, what are you going to give me for it?” His smile gets broad as he sits down and looks rather smugly at Gearing.

Gearings head tilts a few degrees as he stares at Apple Armor. Tick. Tick. CLICK.

The kid’s very life is at stake, but he’s trying to extort something out of Gearing anyway. Well. Damn. Kid’s smart. He probably thinks he’s pulling a fast one on Gearing. Gearing realizes that he might be able to flip the script on him, and just play the part of ‘stupid stable pony’ long enough to get them to safety. 

“Well, it is a nice necklace. I think I can use some of the parts from it. What do you want?”

“Caps,” Apple Armor says without missing a beat.

Gearing tilts his head. “Caps? What kind of caps?”

“You know… _Caps_ … sarsaparilla, sparkle…” Not seeing any recognition in Gearing’s face Apple Armor rolls his eyes in exasperation. “You know. _Bottle_ Caps?”

Gearing tilts his head back as he lets out an elongated, “OOOhhhhhh.” He checks his pipbuck and the small bag of antique caps pops to the surface. He pulls them out as he chuckles to himself. Kids are so gullible. So easily entertained.

He looks into the bag he has then looks out over the foals, fillys, and colts in the cage. He does a quick count, though he already knows full well how many he has thanks to his sorting enchantment. Which is, thankfully, the one thing that does seem to be functioning for him. After making an exaggerated motion of counting the caps, and counting the heads in the cage, he says, “Well, ooookay. But, I only have enough to give you each one cap a piece. Does that sound fair?”

The cage rocks towards him suddenly as every living pony in the cage suddenly springs to his side of the cage with at least one of their hooves sticking out. They all say in unison, “Deal!”

Gearing is taken aback, but can’t help but chuckle. He knew people that collected caps from friendships and work. Like stamp collecting, but more durable. Maybe that’s the reason they seem to be collecting them. Only thing they can hold on to that won’t get ruined in the wasteland. The poor dears.

He pulls out a single cap, and holds it aloft for them all to see. “Okay, But it’s an even trade, right? I give you oooooone cap… and for each one you let me have a necklace… right?”

They all nod in unison. With a few of the younger ones chanting “Gimmie, gimmie, gimmie!”

He walks over to the side of the cage, opposite of where they are currently, and near the corpse. As he gets close, he can make out the structure a bit, and notice that, judging by the frame, this was a young filly, who’d probably only recently gotten her cutie mark. It stabs a dagger in his heart as he wishes he could have gotten to her sooner. However, given the state of decomp, he knows full well he was in stasis and useful to no one when she apparently died.

Gearing motions over to him, and the others just stare at him, not wanting to move towards that side of the cage. He shakes his head and says softly, “Hey, I’m sure of my skill, but everyone makes mistakes. If… if something happens. I don’t want anyone else getting hurt so… this is just a precaution okay?”

Apple Armor looks at the others, closes his eyes tightly, then walks over slowly. He stays just out of reach of Gearing as he carefully steps around the corpse of his friend. Apple Armor’s pained expression is all Gearing needs to know that the two had to be close. Probably the oldest two of the whole lot. Apple armor looks at Gearing and asks, “You sure you know what you’re doing?”

Gearing nods. “We’re both going to be in this together… Don’t worry, if anything happens, my friends will come up and get the rest of you out.” He finds a hard time lying point blank like he did. Not that he thinks they’d just forsake these children to die of starvation, dehydration, and exposure, but calling them ‘friends’ is a long stretch.

Apple Armor gets close and holds out a hoof. “The cap first.”

Gearing chuckles and holds out the small cap on his hoof, and it quickly disappears before his arm even gets fully extended. Gearing’s eyes blink a few times then he chuckles. Apple Armor walks up to the bars, holding them with his front hooves as he lifts his head up and presses his neck as close as he can get. He shivers and shakes as he says with clenched tight eyes, on the verge of tears, “Well, do it already, ya wanker!”

Gearing looks it over for a few moments, taking in every little detail. He pulls up his pipbuck and starts tapping out a few commands, he mutters to himself, “No live signal… so it’s a receiver only…” He pulls out some tools and begins the delicate work. He asks softly, hopefully quietly enough that the others don’t hear, “What happened to her?”

“She tried to take her’s off,” he says flatly, not feeling like any more explanation is necessary. Apple Armor flinches and shakes as he tries to hold as still as possible. Sweat making his already matted fur darker and shiny in some spots. “Well?!” He belts out. “Do it already if you can! What are you waiting for, ya wanker?!”

He shivers and fidgets as he feels a tickling under his chin, but doesn’t move. A few moments later Gearing says playfully, “Goochy goochy gooo.”

Apple Armor pulls away, batting at Gearing’s hoof as he was tickling him under the chin. “The hell was that for ya wank-“ He stops mid sentence.

Gearing stands there, with an especially smug look on his face, twirling the bombcollar on one of his hooves like a miniature hoolahoop. The bomb’s lights are off and it seems entirely inert.

Apple Armor’s eyes go wide and he quickly rubs his entire neck with his hooves. He flinches a bit, as the bomb collar had been so tight it had made the skin bulge and he has a ring of bruises and blood blisters where it pinched the skin. He quickly scratches at it repeatedly, feeling the joy of having access to the single most itchiest part of his entire body. He turns to look at the others, with a look of pure joy, on his face, but only sees a wall of foals with jaws on the wagon floor. “What?” he asks.

The small bright-eyed violet unicorn filly points at him with wide eyes that sparkle as she says softly, “He did it… you’re free.”

The small colt from before nods rapidly. “It looked like he barely touched it!”

Apple Armor’s eyes go to their widest, and the realization that this might actually be real dawns on him. He slowly turns his gaze to stare at Gearing, and the rest follow suit.

Gearing continues grinning and spinning the bomb in his hooves, until he’s sure he has their undivided attention. He sets the bomb down carefully, then sits primly with chin held high in a perfect mock of nobility in the courts of Canterlot. “Next?” he asks flatly, before raising his hoof and showing another cap.

Multiple hooves shoot up in the air, and Gearing chuckles before pointing over to the small violet filly who’d spoken not long ago. “How about you? First, come on over here and I’ll get that off you.”

She nods rapidly, the collar, slightly oversized despite being as tight as possible, rattles against her chin before she bounds over and changes places with Apple Armor.

Gearing goes to work, and has the bomb off even faster this time than the last one. As he’s setting it to the side the little filly stares at him with a cross expression and stomp of her forehoof. “A- _hem_!” He looks at her and she holds out her hoof. “My _cap_?”

He laughs, and hands it to her with one hoof, as he rustles her mane with his other. She clasps the cap happily and giggles as he pats her head before bouncing over to join her friends.

Gearing picks up speed as he goes, going faster and faster, making a game out of seeing how fast he can complete the task. He and the children are having fun.

Until he screws up.

While working on the collar of one of the filly’s that looks like she’s just about the age to get her cutie mark, the wagon shifts, and his tools slip while in the middle of working on it. The collar’s lights glow and a screech comes from the bomb, as he appears to have crossed something.

On the second beep from the collar, Gearing yanks the collar off, and throws it a distance away from the station. It lands with a plop, but remains inert.

The filly, with her bright eyes, look into his and asks, “What just happened?”

Gearing looks at her face, and sees the trust in her eyes. The trust only a small child can give someone. The trust he almost betrayed. He can’t help but have the sight of the dead filly in the corner cross his mind, and realize, without any reservation, that in his haste, and in his own desire to show off, he almost made this little one join the other.

He gives his best smile and points a hoof at it. “It was being bad. I don’t think I like that one. Don’t worry, you can still have your cap.” He hands the cap out to her.

She looks from his face to his hoof, and scrunches her mouth to the side. “Well that doesn’t seem fair. If you’re not going to keep it, I shouldn’t get the cap.” A group of hisses come from her group of friends telling her that she’s being even dumber than the stable pony. 

Gearing shakes his head and puts his hoof across his chest. “Well, it’s a matter of honor. I promised you a cap for the bo- … Necklace. What I do with it doesn’t matter… right?” He waves the cap at her and she gleefully takes it, then bounces over to the others.

The last couple are done slow, and methodical. He’s not sure if all of their moving around caused the wagon to jerk, but he’s not going to make that mistake again. Slow and steady wins the race, and the alternative is the blood of foals on his hooves. 

Not going to happen.

He gets the rest of the bombs off and has them in a nice stack as he looks over at the group. “Well now, it was a pleasure doing business with you!” He grabs the bombs and starts stowing them in a saddle bag.

The kids wave and giggle their thanks.

Apple Armor bucks the bars a few times. “Hey… so what about letting us out of here?”

Gearing trots over to the back end and starts examining the door. Checking every little side, even flying up to examine the top of the door, drawing gasps from the children kept inside. He flops down onto the ground with a deep thud, and puts both hooves on the back of the gate as he stares at the lock. “Basic mechanical lock. After those collars this’ll be a joke.”

Apple Armor squeezes past the others and gets up to the gate “Well open it up already then, wanker.” He looks to the side and puts a hoof to his mouth as he smirks. “Or… is it too tough for you?”

Gearing raises an eyebrow at him, and can’t help but smile at the kid’s obvious manipulation attempt.

Playtime’s over though.

Gearing sits back on his haunches and looks the children over a moment before he asks, “First, I’m going to ask some questions.”

They all exchange glances, then look at Apple Armor. Apple Armor sits down and glares at him. “Oh, I get it. Now you’re going to make us pay you back the caps just to unlock the door.”

There are shocked gasps from several of the children. Several cradle their solitary cap even more. The one filly from before, with the bright eyes, leans forward and offers the cap. “You can have mine if you want.” Which earns her hisses from the rest of the group.

Gearing looks at her and can’t help but have a warm smile spreading across his face. “No, that’s okay sweetie, you keep it.”

She tilts her head, scrunches her mouth to the side, then nods and pulls her hoof back inside.

Apple Armor asks in a huff, “Then what do you want?”

Gearing waves a hoof around. “I’m a bit new around here… I’d like to know a bit of what’s going on around here… So… I’ll trade you. Answer a few of my questions, and I’ll let you out…” He looks them over and for the first time, with them all up near the bars right next to him, he can see how emaciated they are, with skin seeming to hang from their bones and giving them an even more haggard look than normal.

He suddenly gets the impulse to learn necromancy just to bring the Gunners back to life so he can kill them _again_.

The foals sit down and have a mix of looks ranging from confusion to disenfranchised. Apple Armor asks with his eyes so narrowed they are almost closed, “Well, ya wanker? You have a _captive_ audience here…”

Gearing wants to chuckle. He does. It’s horrible. He feels so so dirty for wanting to. But, that was funny. He manages to not be a completely horrible pony, by only thinking it, and instead coughing into his hoof before he asks, “If I let you out, where are you going? What are you going to do?”

There are groans from a variety of the children at his choice of words. Apple Armor stomps his hoof into the muck of the wagon as he says, “The same thing we were doing before these wankers got us… Take care of each other and survive.”

Gearing tilts his head and says softly, “That didn’t seem to work out to well the last time.”

There are moans of agreement, and Apple Armor jumps at the bars and snaps, “We learned our lesson! They won’t get the drop on us again!”

Gearing tilts his head the other way as he thinks things through. Tick. Tick. CLICK!

Gearing perks up. “If I knew someplace safe… with food, and water, and you wouldn’t have to worry about any slavers getting you… would you be willing to come with me?” He taps out a message to Handy before returning his attention to the foals, and awaiting their answer.

[All hostiles confirmed KIA. You better get up here. Something you need to see.]

“I’d say you’re full of horseapples,” Apple armor says with a roll of his eyes. “If there was any place like that around here. We’d know about it.” He mutters a bit quieter, “And so would the slavers and raiders and you just can’t keep them out forever.”

Gearing grins as he leans in. “Not if the only slavers that know about it, have been killed by a certain shiny pegasus.”

He sits up proudly with his wing extended straight up and grinning at them with his head turned profile towards them. A couple of the children’s eyes go wide as they watch the various colored lights twinkle and sparkle across their filthy clothes and pelts.

Apple Armor considers him for a moment and looks back at his group. Then he leans against the bars and asks, “You aint no filly fiddler, are ya?”

Gearing tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. “Wot?”

“Colt coddler?”

“Huh?”

“A foal fondler?” Apple Armor asks half accusationally.

Gearing slams his front hooves across his front in a giant X shape as he yells, “Oh _hell_ no! That’s… that’s disgusting!” He looks absolutely appalled as he looks over the children. They don’t have the same look of revulsion. Merely of thought. And it makes his heart sink. He shakes his head rapidly. “I get what you’re saying, No. Not going to happen. No ones like that in the stable. There’s foals in there already.” He looks them over and scowls, “And if I’m wrong on that, and anyone _tries_ anything… let me know, and I’ll handle it… _Permanently_!”

Several of the children recoil at his sudden viciousness. Apple Armor, however, takes it as a somewhat positive sign. “Well then, what’s the catch?”

Gearing holds up a hoof and looks down. “First, I can’t guarantee you a spot. I have a high suspicion that I can get you in, but I have to double check with the ones in charge. And, even if I _can_ , you’ll be expected to help out around the stable.”

“Doing what?” Apple Armor asks without losing a millimeter of his suspicion.

Gearing shrugs. “Well. Probably cleaning and the like. And, as you get older and learn new things, there’s always something in the stable that needs work or cleaned. The more help, the less there is on any one pony.”

Apple Armor looks at his friends then looks back at Gearing “Well, you let us out, and we’ll come take a look…” He leans against it extra hard and waves a hoof at him. “But if we don’t like what ya wankers are doing, were out of there! Got it?!”

Gearing nods. “Understood. Completely agree.” He looks to his side as Handy comes out of the station and carefully looks around the surroundings. The foals inside slink back away from the bars, trying to get as much distance between them and this new adult as possible. Gearing looks at them, and points a hoof at Handy as he introduces him, “Children. This is Handy. Don’t worry. He’s got foals of his own. He’s a good pony. He won’t hurt you.”

Handy takes in the sight, and walks around the wagon behind Gearing. “What’s all this?”

Gearing looks at Handy and rolls his eyes. “I might not be organic. And I know I’ve never had any children… but, and I could be wrong… I think they _might_ , just _might_ , be foals…” He looks at the kids then back at Handy with a grin. “Maybe.” He tilts his head. “You’ve heard of those, right? Tiny versions of ponies?”

There’s snickers coming from the cage as Handy slaps a hoof over his eyes. Handy looks at the kids then at Gearing as he says flatly, clearly not amused, “I can _see_ that… Where are their parents? Why are they here?”

Several of the children’s mirth instantly dies as they flinch and look off in some random direction. Handy’s heart starts aching, and doesn’t’ stop until Gearing breaks the silence, “These aren’t the Gunner’s kids, don’t worry. The Gunners were going to sell them… as slaves… apparently.”

Handy’s eyes jump to their fullest as they dart back and forth between Gearing and the kids. “Well, we going to rescue them or what?”

Gearing slides open the gate, having unlocked it as Handy was walking around. “Already have. They had bomb collars too, but I already deactivated and removed them. Wanted to wait till you got here before I opened the door.”

Handy’s face pales as his jaw drops. “Bomb collars?! You decided to play around with _bomb_ collars without even talking to me about it first?”

Gearing looks at him a few moments and raises an eyebrow. “What was there to discuss? In case you haven’t noticed, I defused and removed _sixteen_ of them before you even got up here.” He waves a hoof around. “Obviously I knew what the hell I was doing.”

Handy regards him for a few moments before he says flatly, “Obviously.”

Apple Armor looks up at the two of them, from right between them, and asks, “You wankers going to make out or something?” They both look down at him and he snickers, “You’re arguing like an old couple.”

“I’m married,” Handy replies. “To a mare!”

“Not my type,” Gearing confirms simultaneously.

Apple Armor’s eyes zip between the two before he asks, “Well?”

Handy looks at Apple Armor then Gearing. “Well what? What did you tell them?”

Gearing looks at Handy, and hopes he’s judged his heart right, even the tiniest of bits. “We were hoping that, given there’s already a few foals in the stable, a few more would be okay.”

Handy’s mouth drops as he eyes the gathering foals climbing out of the back of the wagon. “I- I’ll have to talk with Nettlekiss… that’s a lot of extra mouths to feed…”

Apple Armor pipes up, “We don’t eat much!”

Gearing nods. “They’re pretty small…” He looks at the bright eyed purple unicorn from before for a moment, then looks back to Handy as he says, “Smaller than they should be, really… Handy, they need our help.”

Handy looks them over and doesn’t say anything.

Gearing prods. “Look. The stable was designed to be self sustaining for a thousand ponies. There’s not even a fraction of that now. Once I get that running, even a smidgen better than before, Food won’t be an issue… And that’s all we really need to worry about, everything else is already working fine… I can make this work. Don’t worry.”

Handy puts up both hooves, and closes his eyes. “I’m sure you can. But we still have to talk with Nettlekiss about it. It’s her decision.”

Gearing grins. “Okay, well then let’s go have a word with-“

“ _Kittty_!” screams the violet unicorn, cutting Gearing off.

Both Gearing and Handy look over in the direction the violet unicorn is excitedly pointing at, and see Nahlah step out of the doorway. Nahlah looks around, eyes wide as she sees all the children bouncing around, then grins as she waves a paw at them.

Handy asks, “What are you doing out here?”

Nahlah thumbs back towards the door. “You two were taking so long, Swift asked me to come make sure everything’s okay.”

“ _Kittyyyy_!!!” the violet unicorn screams again.

The next moment the air is full of flying children.

They soar through the air, springing from their various locations, and pounce on Nahlah. Nahlah’s smile goes from overjoyed, to friendly, to concerned, to out right frightened as the dark shadows of all the children overtake and blanket her.

A moment later, the only visible part of her is the tip of her tail that is twitching sporadically under the mountain of foalish flesh.

They gyrate all over her, climbing this way and that, petting and rubbing her fur. The violet unicorn says happily, “Soooo soooffft. Pretty kitty!” 

Gearing and Handy stand there stunned for a few moments, then start snickering at the sight.

After a couple chuckles, Handy notices a pouch moving among the group, and a baton. A baton that he recognizes very well.

He stomps forward a few steps then yells out in his super powered dad voice, “Alright that’s _enough_! Now all of you _get_. _Off_. _The_. _Cat_!”

The kids jump in the air out of shock and instant obedience, springing into line in a semicircle forming around Nahlah at a distance, while looking at Handy.

Handy glares at them for a few moments and says in an exasperated voice, “Now, put it all back.”

The kids look among each other, and Gearing can see a cloth pouch be passed down the line away from Handy behind the kids, and can’t help but snicker.

Apple Armor asks, “Put what back?”

Handy glares at him, but Apple Armor doesn’t even flinch. “You know damn well _what_. _All_ of it.” He points at Nahlah’s saddlebags, and the flaps that are still hanging loosely open. “Her caps. The Baton. And everything _else_ you took out of her bags.”

A few of them freeze but others, most of them really, quickly, and sheepishly start pulling out a variety of items from hiding places that Handy and Gearing couldn’t see. Even pulling out items that neither had seen them remove and didn’t know she had in the first place. A couple of the younger ones even pull out hooffuls of fur. Nahlah’s fur, and carefully slide over to set it back onto Nahlah, trying to rub it back into her coat.

Apple Armor stands there, looking at the others with an eye half closed, but shoots a dagger like stare at Handy. “There. Happy?!”

Handy sits back and folds his forehooves. “I said _all_ of it… Her caps too. I saw you take them.”

Apple Armor’s eyes go wide a moment, and he looks off in a different direction as he huffs. “Well I don’t see them…”

Handy looks them over for a bit and says with a softer tone, “Look. You’ve all been through a lot. I get it… It’s rough out there.”

Apple Armor looks at him and stomps a hoof into the ground before he shakes his whole body in disbelief. “What would a buncha _stable_ _ponies_ know about what it’s like? Huh?”

Handy shrugs and says flatly, “I only got in recently. Before that I had to walk the wastes with my wife and children.”

Gearing doesn’t look at Apple Armor, and is instead looking around at the surroundings and taking in the view of the other children. “I was dumped here in a crate and left for dead…” Gearing’s eyes settle on Apple Armor’s after finishing his statement and notices that Apple Armor’s staring right at him.

Handy looks at Gearing for a moment, then shrugs and nods as he confirms, “Yeah, that was a shock to stumble across…” He returns to looking at Apple Armor as he asks, “What’s your name, son?”

Apple Armor scowls. “I aint yer son.”

Handy tilts his head slightly and narrows his eyes. “Aint got a name either?”

“Apple armor,” the defiant colt states flatly.

Handy waves a hoof at the other children. “Well. I’ll make you a deal… you give back what you took from her… and I’ll give you and your friends some food.”

The entire semi circle of children’s ears perk up, even Apple Armor’s. However, it’s Apple Armor’s stomach that betrays his stoic expression the most. A growing rumble increases until it becomes a practical roar with the mere mentioning of food. Apple Armor’s eyes go wide and he looks down at his stomach. “Shut up, ya traitor!” He punches himself in the gut with a forehoof for good measure.

Handy smiles and tilts his head. He reaches into his saddlebag, and pulls out every single thing of food he has. Gearing stares rather impressed at the collection of boxes, and cans that Handy lays out. With them, a few bottles of water marked with various descriptions of ‘clean’, ‘safe’, or ‘purified’ get set down as well.

The collection has garnered the attention of every one of the children’s eyes, even Apple Armor’s.

Handy waves a hoof over it and says, “You can have all of this. To split among you. And all I ask is that you give Nahlah back what’s hers, all of the caps you’ve taken, and let our medical bot give you a check up. After that we can talk about what next.”

A barrage of caps comes from the children, as fifteen of them throw their solitary cap, right at Gearing. He stands there, with his eyes partially closed, as they annoyingly plink off his metal sides one at a time to land around him.

Apple Armor is the only hold out, and looks at the others. “Hey! Whatchy’all doin’?!”

One of the older colts near him points at the food. “Even if they take _all_ of our caps, that’s a deal!”

A young foal nearby has their face pointed down, but their big pleading eyes looking up at him. “I’m sooo hungry, we haven’t eaten in foreeeevveerrr.”

Apple Armor looks around at them for a few moments then spins around and stares at all of them “Hey! This could be a trick! We can’t trust adults. Ya forget the Gunners already?”

Gearing trots over and looks down at the food. He holds up an old box that seems to have some kind of cake desert in them. He sets it down and rubs his hooves together as he says happily, “Hey! I know! I’ll taste test it for you… you know… to make sure it’s... safe… Yeah. That’s it. _Safe_.” He holds the box up to his eye level, but off center so the children can see both his face and the box. “I haven’t had one of these since the war! I wonder if it tastes as good as I remember!” He sets it down, and slowly starts opening the box, keeping his attention on the children not far away as his eyes are actually at the box.

Handy smacks Gearing’s hooves away with a scowl. “Hey! I said those are for the children! Get your filthy hooves off!”

Gearing looks over at the kids and folds his forelegs in front of himself as he says, “Well! They didn’t want it!” He looks at the kids and asks as he snatches the box and waves it at them, “Right?”

The massive sound of stomachs rumbling, that comes in a chorus loud enough to sound like a platoon opening fire on his position makes Gearing flinch backwards in shock.

Gearing sets the box back down and looks at Handy. “I think they _do_ want it…” He looks over at the kids, then pulls out a bit of fabric, puts all of the items on it, ties the top loosely, and holds it out towards them with his wing.

Apple Armor feels pressure on his flanks, and jerks to look behind himself. About six of the children are pushing him forward, with hooves, and heads, towards the bag. He rolls his eyes and goes the rest of the way on his own accord. He stops short, just out of reach of them, and slowly proceeds closer warily. There’s a long staring contest between him and Gearing, and he switches his eyes back and forth between Gearing and Handy, then, without blinking, he lunges up, swipes the pack, and quickly trots back to the others with the package in his mouth.

Handy snickers, but then folds his arms and yells out,” Okay now about the-“

Before Handy can finish the sentence, Apple Armor has back kicked the small sack of caps towards Handy, without even looking. Apparently they’ve decided that the amount of food they’ve gotten is worth far more than however many caps Nahlah had been carrying. As Handy picks up the bag, and his eyes are near the ground, he looks at Apple Armor’s retreating form, and freezes, dead stop, with his mouth open.

Gearing, notices this, and leans closer to Handy. “What’s wrong?”

“Even the colts… They’d do that even to _colts_!” Handy replies in disgusted disbelief.

Gearing follows Handy’s line of sight and sees, for the first time, the matted blood between Apple Armors flanks, and partially running down one hind leg.

Gearing’s eyes shoot wide and he snorts out a noxious fume as his hooves screech across the floorboards. He takes a few deep huffing breaths, then says to Handy before straightening up and turning his back to the children. “I don’t want to hear _one_ fucking thing about taking them out… _Ever_.” He looks at Handy sideways as he’s turned around and made himself look busy picking up the various caps at his hooves. He hisses out in Handy’s direction, “Hear me?”

Handy just nods, and looks away in a different direction. The sight was confirmation enough. But it makes the situation worse for him, because he can only picture in his mind the horrors that these children have endured, and he can’t stop his mind from spinning down that particular dark drain.

Handy looks at Gearing as Gearing scoops up the last cap that had plinked off his metallic hide. “How’d they keep those hidden? You’d think the Gunners would have taken everything from them when they were captured.”

Gearing holds one up and giggles as he keeps his back towards the children. “Oh. That’s easy I gave these to them. Children… They’re soooo easily amused… They seemed to like these little bits of trash. I convinced them to let me have the bombs, in exchange for these little bottle caps… crazy right?” He chuckles with a big smile on his face. “Kids.”

Handy’s eyes go big, and he looks down at the pile sitting in the cloth in Gearing’s hoof. “Gearing… how many caps did you give the children?”

Gearing shrugs. “Like one each? Not many. I thought about just giving them the pile but there wasn’t enough for an even split and didn’t want them fighting over them.”

Handy nods “Oh… that’s not too bad then.”

Gearing holds them up as he looks for a trashcan. “Why? What do you mean? Afraid they’ll cut themselves on the edges?”

Handy looks at Gearing for a few moments and says something that nearly breaks every gear in Gearing’s head, “Gearing… bottle caps are money, you know that right?”

After a few moments Gearing starts laughing uncontrollably. It’s a good joke. Or, would have been. If it wasn’t true. Slowly, Gearing stops laughing, and looks at Handy completely dumbfounded. “Noooo… Bits are money. You know… Coins… about as big as your eye. That’s currency… This- this is trash.”

Handy waves both of his hooves. “No, seriously, Gearing… that’s money.” A sudden realization hits him and he grabs Gearing with both forehooves. “Tell me you haven’t been throwing them _away_!!”

Gearing looks at him a moment then lets out a long, “Nnnoooooo.” His eyes dart around for a few moments before he says, “I was seriously debating on it though…”

Handy slaps a hoof over his eyes before saying disgruntledly, “For now on. Ask me, or somepony, before just tossing away things you think are worthless… Okay?”

Gearing looks around and flops on his rear as he asks, “Well what _else_ has magically gained value? Can I swap the mud off my shoes for some ammo? What about the tin cans from corn?”

Handy smirks, realizing the situation and finding the whole thing exceptionally humorous, having to explain such a basic thing to a grown ass stallion. Something even the youngest foal in this group of children obviously knew. “Mud, no, in fact it’s probably radioactive…” He snickers. “Scrap metal does have value though… Even cans.”

Gearing slaps a hoof over his eyes with a loud clang. “Well fuck me! I guess I better just keep _everything_ then, huh?!”

Handy snickers and looks at him with a massive grin. “Eyup… pretty much.”

“It’s a good thing I’m pretty at least!” Gearing strikes his pose with his wings extended, causing himself to sparkle as much as he can.

The violet filly from before giggles as she wrestles with some food package and points a hoof at him as she says in an overly drawn out tone, “He’s preeeeettyyy.”

Gearing smirks and waves, then sits down and folds his hooves in front of himself as he ponders. He looks like he’s pouting, to most ponies that is. But he’s deep in thought. He’d been trained to do without. To be creative. To make due with whatever he could scrounge. But that wasn’t a skill that was very necessary in his day to day life and, in fact, caused a lot of problems with his interpersonal skills while not on assignment.

Now his ‘special skill’ seems to be a matter of life and death and has become as common as hunger.

Gearing notices a couple foals licking the inside of a piece of packaging, they have unfolded it and have it pinned down with their forehooves, licking the shiny insides as vigorously as they can. A smile on their face as they find small molecules of some unknown substance here and there. He looks at Handy and says, “Handy. I can’t watch this anymore. We need to get them some more to eat.”

Dead silence.

All around him, the rustling of plastic and packaging comes to a complete and abrupt stop at his comment. He looks over slowly, and sees all of the children looking at him. A couple of them have various packaging materials in their mouths. A couple actually seem to be trying to eat the packaging. But above all of that, is a slight glint of hope in their eyes. This food was amazing for them. And it’s more than they’ve had in quite a while. But, more?

More is better.

None of the children say anything. They know they’ve given everything they had, and have nothing else to barter with. Kindness is too much to ask for. Not in the wasteland. They’ve learned that through hard lives already.

Gearing gets up and looks at Handy. “I’m taking them in to see about getting them something to eat.”

One of the young filly’s with a tan coat says as she grinds a hoof into the ground, “I… I don’t have anything to trade… the only thing you might want from me… It’s just… I’m hungry, but…” She looks at Gearing and trembles as she asks, “Please don’t hurt me again… I don’t want food that bad.”

Gearing would vomit if he could. He’s instantly furious enough that he would, if he could, throw out a fiery cone destructive enough to receive applause from dragons and bows of submission from balefire bombs. He manages, through a great strength of will, to remain silent. Silent and immobile. Despite what all of his instincts and fury are demanding of him.

Handy waves a hoof, trying to throw out the images in his mind that had come crawling out of that spinning dark drain he’d fell into. “Just help out as you can. No one’s going to ask you to do anything that’ll hurt you.”

The kids look at each other and the violet filly from before says, hopefully, “We can make ourselves useful!” She looks at the others around her, her mane whipping around as she stands up tall and proud. “Right?!”

“Yeah!” their voice comes in unison. Then they start stepping sideways, looking at Handy, and with the small purple unicorn seeming to lead this strange side stepping conga line. Then, just as fast in unison, the children pony pile on Gearing.

Gearings ears go back as he sees the waves of tiny flesh coming at him. He glances around in different directions for avenues of escape, but sees none as the shadows slowly overtake him. The children bop and tumble in fast moving zipping motions all over him. With the kind of speed and enthusiasm that only small children can. Even more so with the amount of sugar a few of them consumed and giving them the relative boosts of a sugar high.

Handy bounces over in that direction and starts clapping his hooves together loudly. “Hey! Get’off’em! What are you doing!? Don’t go trying to steal from _him_ too!”

The kids jump off and back into a semicircle line, all except the small violet unicorn that’s straddling the back of Gearing’s neck and rubbing the top of his head vigorously with a piece of cloth. She looks down and around her before hopping down to the ground and pointing up at Gearing with both forehooves. “See! He’s extraaa pretty now!”

Gearing looks down at himself and finds that, indeed, he’s been thoroughly cleaned. All of the muck that he had gotten on himself while sifting through the supplies on the dead Gunners is gone, and he hates to think where it had been transposed to. And, in fact, it seems that the centuries of dust that he didn’t even know he’d been collecting on his shell has also been removed. As every single fragment of his body glitters in the light, he looks down at the violet filly and grins at her. “Why, _thank_ _you_ little one. I certainly _feel_ … prettier.” He stands at attention again and fans out his wings, catching the light and sending it concentrating and sparkling around the little filly. 

She hops up and down, bouncing around in glee as she dances with the light show.

Handy looks at Gearing and Gearing replies as he starts walking towards the Stable entrance. “I had nothing for them to take anyway… Besides, for trust to grow, someone has to start…” He looks at Handy and says, “I’ll take whatever blame is needed. Don’t worry.” He stops just long enough to point back where they’d come from. “You probably want to check the wagons outside. Bring them in. We don’t want to leave any evidence that they were here. Also you’ll know what if anything from it all is valuable.” He turns towards the kids and says, “Come on, children. Let’s go inside and get you taken care of.”

* * *

Footnote: Please wait, attempting to reestablish . . .

Primary Node query timed out. Attempting secondary…

Secondary Node Not Responding…

**Author's Note:**

> Cover by Mix-up: https://www.fimfiction.net/user/195663/Mix-up Who has a DA account at to see more of his work: http://amalgamzaku.deviantart.com
> 
> Note: This is a mirror posting from where the story is being regularly updated on FimFiction. I will regularly be updating there first and foremost before bringing it elsewhere. 
> 
> https://www.fimfiction.net/story/428522/fallout-equestria-clockwork-precision


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